Slow Burn
by Kalsan
Summary: He'd been biding his time for a year and a half; eighteen long months of watching them rebuild their relationship – their family - and get their lives back on track but patience can only last so long. Sequel to Oakwood Close.
1. Chapter 1

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 1 ~**

Whoever was responsible for naming this particular stretch of I-515 the Las Vegas Expressway needed to be shot or, at least, that was the overriding thought running through Gil Grissom's head as he pulled the Murano to a complete halt for the fifth time in a little over 8 minutes. They'd had a straight run from Lewis Avenue all the way to Flamingo Road but approaching the apparently never-ending construction zone that ran from Harmon down to Tropicana nowadays had turned what should have been a relatively easy trip south into something that was quickly turning into a stop-and-start nightmare.

With everything around him at a complete and utter standstill, he rolled his eyes in frustration, took a deep, calming breath and glanced over at the woman beside him. "Tired?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," Sara answered truthfully, one hand clasped tightly around an ice-cold bottle of water while the other lay atop the manila folder sitting on her lap. She'd rushed home after a busy shift, hurried her way through a much needed hot shower and then scrambled her way into the car with her husband and Ben to make their early morning appointment only to find when they got there that there would be at least an hour and a half's delay. "But I'm also deliriously happy so that's kind of cancelling it out." Slipping the bottle into one of the Nissan's cup holders, she rubbed briefly at one eye. "It feels like it's been such a long week, I almost have to pinch myself to believe that it's only Tuesday; thank God I don't have to work tonight."

"Well, I'll keep Ben occupied this afternoon while you take a nap and then I thought we could grab an early dinner at that seafood place out on Horizon Ridge that you like." Adjusting his sunglasses, Grissom frowned at the stalled traffic up ahead. "I'll call and book a table for us; after all, we've got to do something to celebrate the day."

"You're right, we do." Sara nodded happily as her fingers tightened around the envelope she hadn't put down since the court clerk had handed it to her. "And grilled shrimp salad with my two favourite guys sounds like the perfect way to do it." A quiet whimper sounded from the back seat and she turned to check on the sleeping boy safely strapped into his car seat. "I still can't believe he's finally mine."

"He's been yours since that day in the park, honey; he knows it, I know it and so does everyone that sees the two of you together," Grissom pointed out as he put the SUV back in gear and began inching forward as the surrounding traffic started to move. "That adoption certificate is just a formality."

"Well, it's a formality I'm delighted to have," she countered with a grin. "Have I said thank you yet?"

"Thank you?" Taking his eyes off the road, Grissom glanced across with a frown of confusion. "What on Earth are you thanking me for?"

"For letting me back into your life," Sara answered simply. "And for loving me enough to allow me into Ben's." With an almost shy smile, she shrugged a little self-consciously. "From the day we decided to give our relationship another chance you've trusted me with your son and that is something I will be eternally grateful for."

"Our son, not just mine." Reaching across he took her hand and squeezed it tight. "His biological mother was nothing but an incubator, she proved that by walking away and relinquishing her rights as quickly and as easily as she did. _You_ are his mother, Sara, even without that certificate and there's no one that could ever say otherwise."

Left grinning in pleasure at the words, Sara pulled her hand free of her husband's as the smile morphed into an unexpected yawn. "Boy, I can't wait to get home."

"Actually, we're going to have to make a slight detour on the way." Glancing away from the still crawling traffic, Grissom offered her a quick, apologetic shrug. "If we're all going out to dinner tonight then I'm under orders from the boss back there…" He cocked his thumb back over his shoulder towards the sleeping toddler. "… to pick up something along the way."

"Sounds intriguing." Her interest was instantly piqued.

"It won't take long," Grissom told her. "In fact, we were going to leave it until your birthday next week but I think it's actually more fitting that you're given it today." He leant as far sideways as his seatbelt would allow and winked at her as he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level. "Don't tell Ben I mentioned anything about it though, it's supposed to be a surprise."

"I won't say a word," Sara promised with a chuckle. "In fact I won't even come in with you, how's that? If you really aren't going to be long, Ben and I can stay right here in the car and then there's no way of spoiling the surprise."

"Sounds like a plan." Straightening up again, Grissom relaxed into his seat as the road ahead began to clear and he could finally move his foot from the brake to the accelerator and begin to speed up. "One quick stop, ten minutes at the most and then the three of us can finally head home."

* * *

Pulling herself up the slight incline that lined the southern edge of Cactus Loop Trail, Catherine Willows squinted into the bright Las Vegas sun and sucked in a deep, cleansing breath of fresh air. She'd clung to the hope that Kay Nicholson would turn up somewhere safe and sound and perhaps a little ashamed at the concern her out-of-character disappearance had caused but that hope had been quashed fifty minutes earlier when she'd received the call from Dispatch that an female DB had been found propped up against a tree.

"It's her, isn't it?" Leaning back against the hood of his department-issue Ford, Detective Kevin Crawford looked up from his notebook just long enough to nod towards the scene. "I mean, I only got a quick glance before you got here but it sure as hell looked like her to me."

"I'd be surprised if it isn't," Catherine replied as she brushed at the dust and dirt that now covered her previously immaculate black pants. "But we can't say for sure until the fingerprints and DNA have been run."

"She's got the smell." He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the mention.

"Just like the others." Catherine commented more to herself than to him. "Damn it, there was a part of me that was sure that she'd turn up alive."

"Bit optimistic given our line of work," Crawford opined as he slapped his notepad shut and slipped it into his pocket. "I was kind of expecting Sidle to turn up," he shrugged, good naturedly. "She was the one handling the initial missing persons call, wasn't she?"

'Yes, she was," Catherine agreed with a nod. "But she had somewhere she had to be this morning and she's off tonight so you're going to have to settle for me and Greg Sanders." She checked her watch. "I gave him a call when I was on my way down here so he should be pulling in any minute now."

"I can deal with that." Tapping his pen against his teeth, Crawford looked as though he was lost in thought for a moment before he cleared his throat and continued. "She's been looking a little tired lately." He looked up at Catherine with an almost embarrassed smile. "Sidle, I mean; she looks kind of washed out."

"Well, I don't think she'd appreciate that particular description but, trust me, working full time and having a two year old running around the place will do that to you." Unable to help herself, Catherine chuckled. "You know, I never thought I'd say this but Sara Sidle has actually turned out to be a damned good mother." She nodded approvingly. "And a good wife too; she and Grissom have really worked hard to make a go of their marriage."

"That's good, I'm glad things are working out for them." Although still clearly uncomfortable, Crawford managed a smile. "You know, ever since that Basderic debacle I've felt a little awkward around her especially when it comes to her personal life so…"

"That's right!" Catherine nodded triumphantly as the clues fell into place. "You were the lead detective on that, weren't you?" She smiled at the younger man opposite. "You know, if I were you, I wouldn't let that bother me; Sara's a professional and she's really not one to hold a grudge." She looked up as a large white van followed closely by one of the lab's black SUVs turned off the main trail and began heading towards them. "Okay, it's time to get to work but, honestly Kevin, the next time you see Sara treat her like you'd treat anyone else; if she looks tired, then tell her," her lips quirked up further up into a definite grin. "I have absolutely no doubt that you'll piss her off with the comment but, I promise, she's not going to hold that against you anymore than she'd hold it against me, Greg or even the sheriff himself. Now come on…" Reaching across, she clapped him on the shoulder then turned to make her way back towards the scene she'd not long left. "Let's go see what our victim can tell us."

* * *

Swinging the Nissan into the Galleria on Sunset's car park, Grissom stopped the SUV for a moment, looked around the half-full lot then steered the vehicle over to what he thought would be the best possible spot for a short term wait; it would mean a longer walk to the mall's entrance for him but the small cluster of trees and bushes in the area would, at least, give a little shade to the remaining occupants of the car.

"You sure you want to stay here?" He left the engine running as he unclipped his seatbelt.

"Positive," Sara told him with a weary smile. "To be honest, I'm really not sure I have the energy to walk around that place right now and I'd hate to disturb Ben when he's sleeping so soundly." She stretched in her seat. "Really, we'll be fine waiting for you here."

"Well, like I said, I'll be ten minutes, fifteen at the most," Grissom told her as he pressed the window controls. "I'll put these down for now but if it starts getting too hot then start her up and put on the A/C okay?"

"I could actually work that out for myself, you know," Sara countered sarcastically as she nodded towards the still closed driver's door. "Now go because the sooner you do, the sooner you'll be back and we can get out of here." She smiled to herself as he climbed from the car and waited until he was about to walk off before speaking again. "And if you happen to be anywhere near Cinnabon while you're in there-"

"I know, I know…" Rolling his eyes as he stepped away from the car, he raised his voice just enough to ensure his wife would hear his departing pledge. "I'll pick one up for you, I promise."

It was much closer to twenty minutes before Grissom stepped back out into the bright Vegas sun, a small paper gift bag in one hand and a Cinnabon box in the other.

Before he made his way back across the car lot, his thoughts focussed almost totally on the best way to hide next month's credit card statement and the almost frightening amount of money that he'd just spent on it.

Before the sound of his now wide awake son's plaintive cries quickened his final steps to the silver Murano that he'd left not long before.

Before he wrenched open the front passenger door to the sight of the crumpled and discarded manila envelope and adoption certificate lying on the seat.

And, before it finally hit home that his wife was nowhere to be seen.

 **A/N:** So, the plan after finishing Oakwood was to buckle down and get the final chapters of Shadow Play out of the way before moving onto this one but, thanks to some artistic differences between one of the main SP characters and myself, it's just not working out that way. I _will_ keep plugging away at it though and as soon as they're ready I'll get those chapters up but, in the meantime, I hope you'll enoy Slow Burn.

My thanks as always go to SylvieT for the beta. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 2 ~**

Swinging her SUV wide around the large cluster of marked and unmarked police cars in the Galleria mall's car park, Catherine pulled to a stop just feet from the steadily fluttering crime scene tape that had been strung up around Grissom's Murano.

A flash of tan in her rear view mirror caught her eye as she shrugged free of her seatbelt and she watched as Kevin Crawford pulled to a stop behind her, climbed quickly from his Ford and strode purposefully towards his fellow officers before she exited her own vehicle and stood for a moment, staring at the abandoned Nissan just a few yards ahead.

All four doors were open giving a clear view into the front and rear seats and Catherine was pleased to note that there were no overt signs of a struggle having taken place. A buff colored A4 envelope had already been bagged and tagged and now lay on the front passenger seat awaiting collection whilst a plush duck toy that she recognised as one of Ben's favourites, perched precariously on the very edge of the rear bench seat, left there unnoticed, she surmised, when his father had hurriedly extracted the little boy from his car seat.

Two young CSIs from Days, Brent Warren who had landed a job at the lab after transferring in from Utah and Jay Navarro, a freshly-graduated CSI-1, were currently working the scene; Navarro busily fingerprinting the exterior of the silver SUV while Warren was in the process of setting up a grid search of the immediate surrounds.

Catherine watched them closely; although both had been employed on her watch, she'd never really seen them in the field and, today of all days, she needed to know that she had competent, skilled investigators working the case. A few minutes later, having tracked their every move and seen the focus and clear dedication to the task both displayed, she nodded her head approvingly, more than confident that the two young criminalists were up to the job at hand.

Shifting her attention away from the vehicle, she looked left and right, scanning every visible inch of the surrounding areas, in the hope that something – anything - might give them some hint as to where to start an extended search first but there was nothing to be seen in either direction, just acres of blacktop and hundreds of cars, and, she thought as she looked out over them, there was no way of telling which, if any, may have had something to do with Sara's disappearance.

"I did that when I first got here too."

Catherine started at the unexpected voice and turned to find Conrad Ecklie standing beside her.

"I… Conrad…" She faltered slightly. "I wasn't expecting to find you here."

"She's one of ours, Catherine; where else would I be?" Ecklie tried and failed to hide the exasperation her comment had provoked. "I was at a lunch meeting a couple of blocks away when I got the call about what had happened here; I was on the scene pretty much straight away.

"I'm sorry." Realizing how her words had been taken, she reached out and placed her hand lightly on the sheriff's arm. "I didn't mean for that to sound the way it did; I'm just worried."

"We all are, I guess." Ecklie managed a weak smile. "And I'd don't imagine I'm the only one with a massive case of déjà vu either."

"No, you're not." Catherine agreed with a shrug. "But if there's one person we can leave off the suspect list this time it's Natalie Davis." She tapped one carefully manicured fingernail against her teeth as she thought. "Not that that's going to help us much, of course." She sighed. "How's Gil holding up?"

"He's been kind of quiet ever since I got here; keeping it together for Ben's sake, I think," Conrad posited. "You know what it's like when you've got small children around, you start to lose it and they pick up on that then, before you know it, all hell's broken loose." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the large shopping complex behind. "The management of this place offered us the use of an empty office upstairs so I had one of the uniforms escort them over; I thought it might be easier on everyone to keep them away from the scene."

"Probably a good idea," Catherine conceded as she glanced back at the two young dayshift CSIs still labouring away around the car. "The last thing any of us need is Gil Grissom standing over the top of us while we try to work a scene." She turned back to face Ecklie. "I'll go up and see how he is in a minute or so."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that." Ecklie frowned as he suddenly remembered something. "I was told that you were out at another scene."

"Yeah, I was," She confirmed with a sigh. "It looks like Kay Nicholson's turned up."

"Dead?"

"Very." Catherine nodded. "The coroner's guys had just left with the body when I got the call about this so I left Greg to finish everything up and hightailed it over here." She glanced at her watch. "He wasn't overly happy about that as I'm sure you can imagine but there really wasn't much more to be done so I'm expecting him to roll in here anytime now."

"And Crawford tagged along." Ecklie noted dubiously. "I'm not sure how Gil is going to take having a homicide detective helping out with his wife's disappearance."

"Well he wouldn't have a problem if that detective was Jim Brass so I can't see him having a problem now; Crawford's a good cop, I'm sure Sara's mentioned that to him by now," Catherine countered with a shrug. "You know what it's like, Conrad; any call that comes over with the words 'officer involved' and it's all hands on deck whether you're a rookie patrolman, a homicide detective or," she gestured towards him, "even the sheriff."

"Okay…" As if summoned by the mention of his name, Crawford stepped in beside Catherine. "We've got multiple cars patrolling the streets around this place just on the off chance that Sidle's wandering around out there somewhere." He noted the twin stares of disbelief his audience was directing his way and offered them an almost embarrassed shrug. "Yeah, I know it's unlikely but it's got to be done." He cleared his throat before continuing. "We've got officers stationed at every entry and exit of the mall and others going store to store asking if anyone's seen her plus we just got a call from the manager letting us know that they've got the security footage keyed up and ready to go." He looked at Catherine. "I thought you might want to come up with me and take a look; there's cameras all over this place so whatever happened out here should be somewhere on that tape."

"I will come up but, right now, I think it's more important that you take either Warren or Navarro with you to watch that tape, it is their case, after all." She looked across at Ecklie. "I'll go and check in with Gil, see how he's doing and maybe find out what, if anything, he knows; I think I'll be more useful there for now."

"Good luck with that," Ecklie commented sceptically. "Like I said, he was already quiet when I got here and, knowing Grissom, he'll have internalised it all even more since then." He sighed. "God knows what's going through his mind at the moment."

"Oh, I can guess." Adjusting her sunglasses, Catherine took a deep breath in as if preparing herself for the task ahead. "And if I know Gil Grissom, it doesn't have a happy ending."

Ten minutes later, having made a quick stop at the food court to pick up a couple of piping hot coffees, Catherine rapped lightly on the closed door she'd been directed to and then let herself into the room beyond. It wasn't the largest office that she'd ever been in but had been well set out: a sleek black timber desk and leather-clad executive chair occupying most of the first half of the space while two expensive looking sofas, their mid-grey fabric upholstery coordinating perfectly with the nearby black timber coffee table, sat in an L configuration at the far end of the room.

Seated happily on the floor beside one of the sofas, Ben looked up at her sudden appearance and grinned. The front of him was, more or less, covered by what looked like a large hand towel, its edge neatly tucked into the collar of the checked shirt he wore while his denim clad legs and red and blue sneakers he'd so proudly shown off the last time she'd seen him, only just poked out from the bottom. In his hand he held an ice cream, although he seemed to have more of the soft serve treat smeared across his face and hands than in the actual cone itself.

Ignoring everything, and everybody, else in the room, Catherine paused only briefly to place the cups she held down on the nearest corner of the desk before making a beeline over to the little boy.

"Hey sweetheart." Leaning forward, she kissed Ben's tousled hair before lowering herself to the floor beside him. "What you got there?"

Beaming happily, he held his cone up as if in triumph. "Ayes keem!

"You sure do." Despite the circumstances, Catherine couldn't help but chuckle. "Is it good?"

Pushing the sticky fingers of his free hand into his mouth, Ben pondered the question for a moment before nodding almost reverently.

"Well, the ice cream might be tasty but I'm not so sure about the fluff off the carpet." Taking hold of his hand, she gently extracted it from between his teeth and, keeping it tightly clamped in hers, looked up at the woman sitting on the sofa behind him. "Do you have something I can clean his fingers with?"

"Yes, of course." Reaching for the tub of baby wipes beside her, the female officer assigned to 'baby-sit' father and son, pulled a couple free and handed them across. "I know his mom will go nuts when she finds out I fed him Dairy Queen for lunch but I tried offering him a sandwich first and he just wasn't interested."

"I don't think Sara will mind." Catherine looked up with a reassuring smile before quickly wiping the worst of the ice cream and fluff away from his fingers. "Provided, of course…" She playfully jabbed her pointer finger into the Ben's, an action that caused the little boy to chuckle with delight. "That _someone_ doesn't think he's going to make a habit of it." She glanced across the room towards the solitary figure standing in the window. "Because I'm sure even Daddy will have something to say about that." She cocked her head in that direction as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "Has he said anything?"

"No, not really." Leaning forward, the officer lowered her volume to match. "He told me Ben's name and asked if I could find something for him to eat but that was about it. He's really not moved from that spot since we got here."

"I thought as much." Catherine sighed then nodded down at Ben. "Will you be all right with him for a while longer? I'll make a couple of phone calls and have someone come out and pick him up but it may be an hour or so before they can make it."

"We'll be fine." Reaching out, the woman placed her hand on Ben's shoulder. "Won't we, buddy?

Pushing to her feet, Catherine retrieved the two coffees and rounded the desk before coming to a halt at her friend's side.

"Here," she gently nudged his arm with one of the cups. "Take this."

"I don't want it, Catherine." Not bothering to look at what it was she was offering, Grissom continued staring out through the window to the busy parking lot down below. "I don't want anything except to know that my wife is safe."

"We'll find her." Taking matters into her own hands, Catherine pushed the hot coffee into his before taking a sip of her own. "And she'll be fine, Gil, I'm sure she will."

"What, like last time?" He didn't even attempt to hide the dark sarcasm in his voice. "You remember what she was like after that, Catherine; you remember how long it took for her to begin to heal." He drew in a deep, juddering breath. "She was scarred physically _and_ mentally for months afterwards; do you really think she'll bounce back after going through the whole thing again?"

"It's not the whole thing again though, is it?" Pushing aside the fear that ran through her, Catherine tried to keep her tone upbeat. "But if there's anything Natalie taught us, it's that Sara Sidle is tough and resilient and, when she absolutely has to, she will do whatever it takes to make it back where she belongs." Reaching out, she circled her hand over the rock hard set of Grissom's back. "Last time it was you she fought to get back to but, this time, it's you _and_ Ben so, if anything, she now has twice as much motivation than before." She stopped the rubbing and let her hand come to rest lightly on his shoulder. "We'll get her; I'm absolutely positive of that."

"I promised to protect her." Almost unconsciously, Grissom took a sip from the cup before continuing. "I promised to protect both of them."

"From what I was told you were only gone twenty minutes, Gil, and you left them sitting in a car in a relatively busy parking lot." She shrugged helplessly; offering hope and reasoning was one thing when you were dealing with the loved ones of a stranger but when the victim and their family were not only known to you but also intimately acquainted with both the horrors and the vagaries of chance, the task took on an entirely new dimension altogether. "No one in their right mind would have thought they were going to be in any-"

"She's pregnant, Cath."

His voice was completely expressionless as he said it and all Catherine could

do was stop mid-sentence and stare.

"We found out a month and a half ago." Continuing to speak as though he were on automatic, Grissom kept his eyes trained on the window. "We wanted to keep it to ourselves for as long as possible," he shrugged. "Well, at least until the first scan when we could be reasonably sure that everything was okay." He turned to look at her for the first time. "I can't lose her again, Catherine, not now; not when everything was going so well."

"You won't." Mindful of the hot cups they both held, Catherine pulled him into a tight hug. It was a promise that she'd never given out before; one that very well might be impossible to deliver but she was now, more than ever, determined to give it her best shot. "We'll get her back to you, Gil." Stepping backwards, she offered him a small but confident grin. "We'll get them _both_ back to you, safe and sound."

* * *

She had no memory of how she'd got there.

No recollection of walking into wherever it was she now found herself standing; no recall of positioning herself behind the off-white door she now faced; and, most alarmingly, absolutely no idea where or, indeed, when she'd left Grissom and Ben and ended up here on her own.

Taking a single step backwards, Sara gasped in a mouthful of the cool, air-conditioned atmosphere and stared at the handle before her; she didn't know if it was locked or unlocked and, as a ball of unease settled itself in the pit of her stomach, she wasn't entirely sure she had the nerve to find out.

Piped music played softly through a speaker above her and, beyond that, she could make out the murmur of voices – multiple voices – that seemed to be moving back and forth somewhere on the other side of the door. Both sounds seemed familiar but, given her current circumstances, she wasn't entirely sure if that was a good thing or not.

Turning around, she found herself staring at what looked like an expanse of white: white ceiling, white floor, white walls and, set into them, numbered white doors positioned at regular intervals along the entire right-hand side of the corridor. She watched them for a full minute, half expecting one of the doors to open but none did and, concluding that she was probably standing at this one for a reason, turned round once again and placed her left hand lightly on the stainless steel door handle.

A wave of fear washed through her; she couldn't go out there just now, not like this.

Pulling her hand back again, Sara quickly started a search of her clothing, her fingers running swiftly over the front and back pockets of her slacks hoping for something that might double as a weapon. During work hours, they were invariably stuffed with a mixture of latex gloves, plastic bindles, pens, markers and, of course her phone but both were empty now so she shifted her attention to her jacket.

She didn't hold out much hope for success; she'd pulled the garment out at the last minute, deciding that the simple white blouse she'd elected to put on was a little too simple, even for an appearance in family court. She found nothing that could possibly serve her purpose but her fingers did land on something and, pulling it out, she stared down at the tightly wrapped item in her hand. Plain white paper had been folded over and over again around something solid and, written on the top in tiny printed letters the word USE. Confused, Sara frowned down at it, trying to think back to the last time she'd worn the jacket and wondering why on earth she'd have left such a strange item in the pocket but then shook her head, positive that, regardless of when it was, she hadn't been the one to put it there.

Opening up the small parcel, she fully expected to find more writing but nothing else appeared until, with the final corner carefully unfolded, she tipped two bright and shiny quarters out into the palm of her hand and discovered a cell phone number; a cell phone number that she knew only too well.

Biting her lip in concentration, she looked down at the coins and the paper they were wrapped in and then up again at the door handle. The noises she'd been hearing outside continued unchanged but now she could place them; now she knew where she'd heard them before; now she knew where she was.

Reaching out again, she pushed down on the lever without hesitation and stepped out into the considerably larger space beyond. She stood for a moment, completely unnoticed by those that moved around her, and stared at her surrounds; they weren't quite as familiar as she'd guessed they were going to be but, given a minute, she was sure she'd be able to put a name to her location.

Straight ahead, a single payphone hung on the wall and Sara made straight for it, jiggling the two quarters in her hand as she approached. She lifted the receiver, dropped both coins into the slot and, with only a cursory glance at the number written on the paper, quickly dialled 702-555-0141.

"Grissom."

He was, she knew, always wary of answering a call from an unknown number but he answered this one in seconds and both the fear and desperation in his voice chilled her to the core.

"Gil, what the hell is going on?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry about the delay with this; the plan was to have a 7-10 day turnaround time between chapters and, I promise, I will be working to get it down. Thanks, as always, go to SylvieT for being the fantastic (and remarkably patient) beta that she is. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 3 ~**

Drumming her fingers silently on top of the steering wheel, Catherine stared up at the traffic signal ahead and willed it to change to green. Leaving the Galleria, she'd chosen to avoid the interstate and its mess of road works and mid-afternoon travellers in favour of heading north via surface streets; a move that ought to have saved her both time and hassle and might have, had she not had the misfortune to hit almost every red light possible between Sunset Road and Maryland Parkway.

She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders in an effort to ease the dull ache that had settled in at the base of her neck; it had been a long tedious night followed by a long frustrating day and both anxiety and tension were starting to take their toll.

Glancing across at her front seat passenger, she could plainly tell he was feeling it too; Grissom's determined glare out through the windscreen coupled with the hard set of his jaw and deeply furrowed brow spoke volumes.

"Not long now." Reaching over the centre console, she patted him gently on the arm. "Just try and relax a little, will you? You've spoken to her so you know she's okay and she's also in a busy public area so she's perfectly safe."

"Is she?" Shifting his attention to the still-red traffic light, Grissom scowled. "What the hell was that, Catherine? What kind of abduction starts at one shopping mall, lasts an hour and a half and then ends at another mall with the victim unable to remember anything that happened?" He shrugged. "It just doesn't make any sense."

"I've been thinking about that; there have been a handful of incidents over the past eighteen months where women have disappeared from public places but if this was the same guy, Sara would never have turned up so quickly and she'd never have turned up alive." She glanced across half expecting him to comment but he remained silent so she carried on. "It could be someone taunting us I guess, a kind of 'see what I can get away with right under your noses' type of thing but without context of some kind that would actually be a fairly pointless exercise so I'm leaning more towards a case of mistaken identity." She shrugged. "I mean, it doesn't explain the amnesia – that, I'm going to assume has been caused by a drug of some sort – but it could explain Sara being taken." The light finally turned green and, easing her foot off the brake, Catherine allowed the big SUV to move forward with the surrounding traffic. "It wouldn't be the first time a pissed off husband hired someone to take out his wife and then the guy accidentally grabs the wrong target."

"He wouldn't usually let the wrong one go though, would he?" Grissom countered sceptically. "That kind of person tries not to leave loose ends, which is what Sara would invariably be."

"True," she conceded, "but if he's already got her doped up and is confident that she's not going to be able to identify him, what has he got to lose?"

Catherine waited for a moment, fully expecting her hypothesis to be shot down in flames but, instead, she got silence and glancing sideways, she was surprised to see him seriously considering the idea. She drove on, amazed when they made it through the next set of lights without having to stop and was already focussing on the intersection up ahead before Grissom spoke again.

"You know any people who've had a colonoscopy?" Turning as much as his seatbelt would allow, his mouth arced up into the kind of cocky, self-satisfied grin that Catherine hadn't seen him use in years. "Or maybe an endoscopy?"

"A couple," she answered cautiously. "Why?"

"Did they ever happen to mention what they remember about the procedure?"

"No, I can't say that they did." She frowned as she tried her hardest to recall. "In fact, about the only thing I can remember being told about it was that they had almost no memory of it at all." She shrugged. "But, considering they'd have been anaesthetised at the time, that's probably not too surprising."

"Sedated not anaesthetised or, more precisely, consciously sedated." He corrected himself. "They were never knocked out, they didn't have to be; they'd have been given a drug that kept them calm, relaxed and pain-free during the procedure that also has the ability to induce anterograde amnesia."

"Which is why they have no memory of it."

"Exactly." Grissom's smile widened. "And the main drug of choice for conscious sedation is Midazolam."

"Versed." Catherine gave it its more commonly known commercial name. "It's one of the Benzodiazepines and definitely _not_ something that you can just stroll into a pharmacy and ask for."

"No, it's not and in its liquid form it tends to be available for procedural use in a medical environment only." He nodded. "Works in minutes, can be injected or sprayed into the nose or even inside the cheek and the effects typically last an hour or so."

"And Sara went AWOL for ninety minutes." Glancing away from the road, Catherine smiled. "That could explain her memory loss."

"That's what I thought." Grissom offered her the first genuine, worry-free smile she'd seen from him since her arrival at the Galleria.

"So, what are we going with here?" She asked as she moved the Explorer across into the right-hand lane. "He injected her with the stuff?"

"Not to start with, she'd fight to the death if she saw someone coming at her with a syringe especially with Ben in the middle of things as he was." He quickly shook his head. "No, Midazolam is water soluble so, if it were me, I'd opt for a concentrated spray straight into the face; you'd just need to get enough into the mouth and nose to make your victim compliant and then, when you've got them away from the scene, top up the dose with an IV injection."

Both his supposition and reasoning were so well thought out and so absolutely plausible that Catherine couldn't help but smile.

"You've missed this, haven't you?" Taking her eyes off the road ahead, she glanced across at her old friend. "Not the getting your wife kidnapped bit, obviously, but the chase, the mystery, the puzzling things out."

"I have, kind of, yeah." Grissom shrugged self-consciously. "It was a part of my life for a long time, Catherine; I suppose I'll always miss some aspects of it."

"Well, I happen to know that Days will be looking for a new supervisor in about three month's time." Her eyebrows rose in question. "So, if you had no problem with me being your boss and felt like coming back, the lab would be delighted to have you."

"Well, I survived Ecklie so I dare say I'd survive you but it's not something that I feel the need to do anymore, Cath." Grissom shrugged. "Thanks for the offer but I like the job I have now; I spend most of my working week hiking my way along the Wash and Lake Mead and the rest of it writing reports on what I find there. I can set my own hours, work around Ben's schedule and Sara's when it's necessary and, most importantly, make sure that the two if us actually manage to get some time alone together which is not always easy when you're working diametrically opposite shifts and there's a toddler in the house."

"Yeah well, looks like you've been more than successful on that front." Catherine didn't even attempt to hide her grin. "How far along is she?"

"Almost twelve weeks," Grissom admitted. "She's booked in for a scan next Monday and, provided we got the all clear, we were going to let everyone in on it after that." He sighed wearily. "I guess that's kind of been taken out of our hands now though."

"Why, because you told me?" Catherine asked incredulously. "I could keep it a secret you know, especially if I didn't have to sit on it for long but, having said that, I actually might not have to." She glanced over with a grin. "Once she's processed, Sara's going to have to be checked out medically and any self-respecting ER doctor is going to want to check out Grissom junior too so she might not need that appointment next week after all."

A message notification beep sounded from the console and she nodded towards her cell phone.

"Could you check that for me?" She glanced at the dashboard clock as Grissom reached for the phone. "I'm going to guess it's Crawford."

"It's from Ecklie actually." Scrolling his way through the text, Grissom read out the salient points. "Judy Robbins collected Ben ten minutes ago, Crawford's on his way up here now and apparently Greg is on the warpath." He looked up. "Conrad says he stopped at the Galleria on his way back to the lab and was more than a little pissed when he discovered Sara had been found and no one thought to let him know."

"Damn, I knew there was something I forgot to do." She shrugged sheepishly. "I left him to finish up the scene we were working when I first got the call about Sara; I was supposed to call him when I knew what was going on."

"Do me a favour, will you?"

"Please don't leave Sara at a scene?" Catherine guessed with a single raised eyebrow. "Don't worry, I wouldn't, especially not now; let's make a deal, okay?" She offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "You do whatever you have to in order to make sure she's safe at home and I'll do the same thing at work; between the two of us, she'll probably end up being the safest person in the whole of Vegas."

* * *

Five minutes and one final red light later, Catherine turned the Explorer into the parking lot of Old Orchard mall. A 1980's leftover that had steadfastly resisted the almost constant redevelopment that had been going on all around it for the past thirty years, it had an Albertson's at one end and a Target at the other while the middle was comprised almost totally of mid-priced clothing stores, cell phone retailers and a wide variety of fast food vendors.

Swinging the SUV into a parking space near the entrance, she nodded towards the assembly of marked police cruisers and the single black SUV positioned immediately outside the centre's door.

"Well, that's saved me some work." Pushing the driver's door open wide, Catherine stepped out into the hot afternoon sun. "I thought I'd be the one processing Sara but it looks like someone's beat me to it."

"Huh?" Closing his door behind him, Grissom's attention had been caught by something else.

"I said it looks like Days may have beaten us here." She smiled, pleased with the proof that the lab's new call-out procedures were clearly working well. "If my theory's correct and this does turn out to be a case of mistaken identity-"

"I'm not entirely sure that it's going to pan out that way, Catherine." Grissom keep his eyes firmly locked on a four storey building that abutted the north-eastern end of the mall's car park. "So you may want to rethink that theory of yours."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

"That building over there, you see the third floor balcony on the left?" He paused a moment to give her time to orient herself correctly. "That's Sara's old apartment."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me, I spent a lot of time there, Cath; I'm positive." Grissom shrugged. "I never made the connection when she told me where she was but now that I'm here and I see just how close that apartment building is…" He shook his head. "There's no way that's a coincidence."

"Okay." Drawing in a deep breath, Catherine let it out slowly as she processed what she'd just been told. "So, Sara was definitely the target."

"It looks that way." Turning his back on the building, Grissom stared across at the mall's entrance. "Which means we're back where we started from; we don't know who, we don't know why and we have no idea when, or if, they're likely to do it again."

"Well, we can stand out here and try to work it out the hard way or we can go inside and see what your wife can tell us." Seeing him about to speak, she held up a restraining hand. "I know, I know, she doesn't have any memory of what happened but she's not the only one being forgetful around here," her mouth quirked up into a grin. "We've got Locard on our side, haven't we?" She cocked her head. "Sara might not be able to tell us anything directly but the odds are that there's evidence of the perp on her that can."

 **A/N:** Mahalo SylvieT :)


	4. Chapter 4

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 4 ~**

* * *

 **A/N 1:** My apologies for the delay with this chapter, life just seems to be conspiring against me at the moment when it comes to getting things done but I'll do everything I can to try and get this thing onto some sort of regular schedule.

* * *

Stepping out of the bright daylight glare, it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the mall's lower light levels but, the moment they did, neither had any doubt as to where it was they were headed.

A crowd of people, a few laden with only a bag or two but most with shopping carts in tow had gathered around the yellow and black tape being used to demarcate one section of the concourse up ahead and, wending their way around those shoppers who clearly had neither the time nor inclination to watch the unexpected entertainment, Grissom and Catherine made a beeline to join them.

Pushing through the throng, Catherine smiled her thanks as the uniformed officer stationed on the scene's outer boundary raised the tape just high enough for them both to duck under and then, coming to a complete stop, she surveyed the area before her with the well-practiced eye of seasoned crime scene investigator.

The cordoned off area was approximately fifteen feet long by ten feet wide, not exactly huge but large enough to contain the payphone Sara had used, the white unmarked door that, Catherine surmised, led to the service corridor she'd found herself in, another door, this one clearly labeled as the entrance to the men's room and, finally, a long timber bench that was now being used as a worktable of sorts for this particular part of the investigation. A large black toolbox, very similar in size and shape to one that Catherine had used years earlier, sat open at one end of the bench while, at the other, CSI Mark Cronin sat, meticulously labeling the small collection of evidence bags and bindles before him.

The sudden appearance of two newcomers at his scene caused his head to come up and he broke into a warm smile at the woman standing before him.

"Hey, Boss." Quickly scribbling his signature on the small bag he was holding, Cronin tossed it down beside the others and pushed to his feet. "I take it this is your way of making sure that Days stays busy."

"Well, you know how it is," Catherine smiled in reply. "I've got to find some way to keep you on your toes." She glanced around. "So, where is she?"

"Sara'll be right back," Cronin cocked his head in the direction of the men's room door. "That's about the only place around here that doesn't have an audience so I sent her in with an old pair of coveralls and some evidence bags for the clothes that she's wearing." He gestured towards the bagged evidence behind him. "I've swabbed her hands and taken fingernail scrapings already; I'll get the rest of the processing done when she's finished in there."

"Having the victim collect evidence for you?" Catherine's eyebrows rose somewhat dubiously. "Not exactly protocol but, given the circumstances, I'll let you get away with it this time." Suddenly remembering introductions were in order, she turned towards Grissom. "Gil, meet Mark Cronin, CSI 3 from Days." She looked at Cronin. "Mark, this is-"

"Gil Grissom." He finished the sentence for her. "I kind of guessed as much when I saw the two of you standing there." He nodded towards Grissom. "I've been hearing stories about your time at the lab ever since I started there myself; it's a pleasure to finally meet you, sir."

"Thanks." Grissom gave the younger man a cursory nod before addressing Catherine. "We're going to need to swab her nose and mouth…" He thought for a moment. "And it might pay to run one over her eyes and cheeks too, there's bound to have been overspray."

"Anything else?" Catherine asked, thoroughly enjoying watching her old friend back at work.

"Blood draw, maybe?" He suggested, a single eyebrow arcing up in question. "If it's the stuff we think it is, it metabolizes quickly so it's probably a case of the sooner the better." He looked at Cronin. "Can you do that or do you want me to?"

"I can do it," Mark told him confidently. "You're thinking they used a chemical restraint?"

" Nothing else makes sense." Grissom commented simply.

"Well, one of the first things I noticed when we arrived here was that Sara's face is bare." He shrugged self-consciously. "I mean, she's not the type to wear a lot of makeup at work but she usually has some on and now there's nothing; no eye shadow, no mascara, not a thing."

Grissom frowned as he pondered the new information. "We were in a hurry to leave this morning and she did jump in the shower as soon as she got in from work but I know for a fact she put more on." He shook his head as he turned to look at Catherine. "He's cleaned her off."

"Whoever he is he obviously knows his stuff," she commented dryly before turning her attention back to Cronin. "What did Sara tell you? Is there anything she remembers?

"Not a thing." Cronin told them. "As far as she's concerned one minute she's sitting in the car and the next she's behind that door over there." He pointed towards the service corridor. "There's three stores that have rear doors opening up into that area for deliveries but it's primarily used for janitorial and storage purposes so there's not really a lot of traffic in there, especially during business hours." He shrugged. "I'm hoping that means good news for us when it comes to fingerprinting and we're also tracking down as much CCTV footage of this place as we can, the center has cameras inside and out and so do a lot of stores so, fingers crossed, we'll get to see whatever it was that went down."

"Mark, I-" Stepping out through the men's room door with a pair of brown paper sacks in one hand, Sara was mid-sentence when she looked up and, with absolutely no hesitation at all, dropped both bags and walked straight into her husband's arms.

"Thank God." Grissom wrapped his arms tightly around her as she pressed her face into his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I am now." Lifting her head, Sara tried desperately to give him a reassuring smile but the tremulous one she managed let them all know just how much the day's ordeal had scared her. "Where's Ben? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," her husband quickly assured her. "Judy picked him up from The Galleria for us; he's probably annoying the hell out of Al as we speak."

"As long as he's safe, that's all I care about." A shiver ran along her spine and Sara trembled in her husband's arms.

"I promise you, honey, as far as Ben's concerned it's like nothing ever happened." Grissom tipped his head towards the timber bench. "Come and sit down for a while, okay?" He guided her across to the seat and watched anxiously as she lowered herself down. "Are you sure you're okay?" He quickly scanned her up and down. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No, no, I'm good." Sara looked up with a weak but genuine grin. "I think it's just that finally having you here means that everything's really over and I can begin to relax." She shrugged. "But, of course, the minute I do that, all the 'what ifs" start running through my head." She nodded over towards the large group of avid onlookers. "Being the center of attention probably isn't helping either."

"We'll get you out of here as soon as we can." Leaning in, Catherine gave her a quick hug. "How about we get you something to eat and drink? I'm going to guess that it's been a while since you've had anything."

"Yeah." Placing one hand one on her stomach, Sara nodded her agreement. "That might be an idea."

"You want to go grab something, Gil?" Cocking her head towards the food outlets up ahead, Catherine took a seat on the bench beside Sara. "You'd know better than I would what to get her."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Shifting his attention from his wife to Catherine and then back again, Grissom started to back away towards the waiting crowd. "I won't be long," he assured her quickly, his own unease at leaving her all too obvious. "Five minutes or so; you'll be alright?"

"I'll be fine." Sara smiled, calm restored and nerves settled now that she was safely surrounded by friends and colleagues. "I'm not going anywhere this time."

She watched him go; following his progress along the concourse as he bypassed a handful of vendors before stopping at one that he clearly thought would be more to her taste. She vaguely heard Catherine and Cronin talking, heard mention of swabs and syringes but paid no attention to any of it until Catherine leaned in with an almost-conspiratorial whisper.

"I know you already said that you were fine but did he touch you, Sara?" Keeping her voice as low as possible, Catherine shrugged apologetically. "I hate having to ask but I think it's a question that's better coming from me rather than Mark…" She paused for a moment. "Or Grissom."

"No," Sara shook her head. "I mean, I have no memory of what happened when I was gone but I'm fairly sure he didn't." She gestured over her shoulder towards the men's room. "I, uh, checked as best as I could when I was getting changed and-" Sara felt herself begin to blush; it was one thing being the investigator in this kind of situation but entirely different when you found yourself the victim. "Well, everything seems normal."

"Okay, well, that's good." Catherine offered her a relieved smile "We'll be running you up to Desert Palm to get looked over anyway so, no doubt, they'll double-check but that's good to hear anyway."

"I don't need to be checked over, Cath, honestly." Sara shook her head. "All I want to do is finish up here and then head home with my husband and son. Statements and questions can wait; I just want to be with my family."

"And if I could I'd let you but you know how it works, Sara; you can tell them you're fine until you're blue in the face but both the department and the lab are going to insist on medical reports so there's no getting out of it." Leaning in again, she winked conspiratorially. "And besides, it's not just you we need to check on now, is it?"

"He told you?" Her hand going automatically to her abdomen, Sara was clearly surprised.

"He had to tell someone." Catherine told her simply as she looked up and saw Grissom, a plastic cup in one hand and a tightly wrapped sandwich in the other, approaching. "He thought he'd lost you, Sara, you and your baby; he was never going to be able to keep that to himself."

Pushing to her feet, Catherine nodded determinedly at the younger woman. "Now, come on, the sooner we get finished here and then done at the hospital, the sooner we'll get you home where you belong."

* * *

"Then he nibbled a hole in the cocoon, pushed his way out and…" Reaching around the small body nestled comfortably in her lap, Sara turned to the final page. "He was a beautiful butterfly!"

"Yay!" Fingers stretched wide, Ben clapped his hands in delight. "Moh?"

"There is no more, baby." Closing the book, she held it in front of him. "We've read this story lots of times and this is always the end." Turning him sideways on her lap, she smiled to herself as his head found its customary resting place cradled against her breast. "We'll read some more tomorrow, okay?"

"No." Mouth set in a petulant moue, Ben took the book from his mother's hand and pulled it open again clearly determined that reading time was not over. "Moh."

"Mommy said more tomorrow and what Mommy says goes." Watching from the open doorway, Grissom fixed the toddler with a no-nonsense glare. "She's tired and needs to get some rest and you…" Approaching the old timber rocking chair Sara had insisted on installing in the corner of the bedroom, he tugged playfully at his son's pajama-clad leg. "… are up way past your bedtime."

"My fault, not his." Tightening her hold on the boy, Sara gently nuzzled the side of his neck, an action that elicited instant giggles. "Today, especially, I'd planned on spending the whole afternoon with him and, instead, all I managed was a couple of hours."

"You've got tomorrow too, you know," Grissom commented softly as he leaned over and dropped an almost chaste kiss on top of his wife's head. "And every day after that as well." Placing the crumpled paper sack he'd been carrying on the small bookcase beside her, he squatted down by the side of the chair and wrapped his arms around both her and their son. "We're all together, we're all safe and that's exactly how we're going to stay."

Letting them go again, he pushed back to his feet with a wince of discomfort. "And, before Ben goes to sleep, I think he really ought to give you this." Retrieving the bag, he slipped his hand inside and pulled out a small gift-wrapped box. "In all the excitement today, I almost forgot about it; I was carrying it when I got back to the car and shoved it in Ben's bag when I reached in to get him out."

Taking it from him with a smile, Sara slipped her finger beneath the single strip of tape holding the smart navy blue and silver wrapping paper together and peeled it back to reveal a small black leather box sheathed in a thin band of glossy white cardboard. She held it in the palm of her hand for a moment then looked up, clearly bemused.

"Open it," Grissom urged. "I wanted to get something for Ben to give you to mark his adoption; something beautiful that would last both of your lifetimes and something meaningful that could, hopefully, be passed down to the next generation."

With her son leaning more and more heavily against her chest, she carefully slid the cardboard free, noting the jeweler's name embossed in simple gold lettering across the top.

"Underwood, huh?" One eyebrow arced in question as Sara read the word aloud. "The same jeweler that replicated your wedding band."

"Well, he did a good job with that so I figured I could trust him with this," Grissom answered as he watched his wife pull open the box.

"Oh, my God!" Usually not one for blurted exclamations, Sara couldn't help herself as the pendant came into view. "Oh Gil, it's beautiful."

The princess cut emerald had been set on point and surrounded on all four sides by channel-set diamond baguettes; an eighteen carat white gold chain completed the piece and it sparkled brightly against the deep black velvet it was resting on.

Despite the fact that he had been half dozing, Ben made a lightning-fast grab for the box and it's rather expensive contents, an action that was quickly forestalled by his father. "Uh-uh, buddy." Grissom shook his head as he placed the little boy's hand back in his lap. "She's already seen it so there's no point in trying to take it back now."

Keeping a restraining hand on Ben's arm, he turned his attention back to his wife.

"I know you don't like fussy jewelry so I told him it had to be something that was simple but beautiful and this is what he came up with." Both relieved that she liked the pendant and anxious to have her understand his motivation, Grissom dove into a hurried explanation of the piece. "Emerald is Ben's birthstone so that, naturally, takes centre stage but the diamonds are actually from the two of us; part of their meaning is purity and innocence so that's obviously him but they also stand for love and fidelity and that is from me, with thanks as well, for taking him on the way that you have and making him your own." He shrugged, self-consciously. "And for giving me another chance too, I guess; I know there are a lot of women out there who would have walked away without a second thought the moment I turned up here with a baby in tow."

"Well, as far as I'm concerned, they'd have been idiots," Sara replied with utter conviction. She pressed a feather-light kiss to her weary son's hair before leaning forward to catch her husband's lips with her own. "That's one decision I have never regretted and I never will; I love you, I love Ben and this…" she held the open pendant box up between them. "... couldn't be more perfect." She sat back again and grinned happily. "Thank you both so much."

"You're more than welcome." Pleased with her happiness and more that a little relieved that the subject of price hadn't come up, Grissom nodded towards the little boy. "You want a hand putting him in bed?"

"No, I'll do it in a couple of minutes." Extracting the now forgotten storybook from her son's lax fingers, she placed it down on top of the bookcase before gently setting the rocker into motion. "I'll make sure he's properly asleep before I leave him and maybe that way we won't be woken up with a midnight visit."

"That is becoming a habit, isn't it?" Turning slightly, Grissom looked over at the sturdy timber crib his son had occupied ever since he'd bought him home from the hospital and had been happily clambering his way out of almost every night for the past week or so. "Think it's time for an actual bed?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what he's trying to tell us." Sara lowered his voice slightly as Ben roused a little before relaxing into her hold again. "Since Catherine's given me the rest of the week off it might be a good chance to do it now and get him settled."

"Well…" Leaning into the crib, Grissom pulled down the bedding so it would be ready for Ben's pending arrival. "I guess it won't be too long before someone else is needing this thing so yeah, we'll see to that this week." He stood upright again and smiled softly at his wife. "I'm going to head to the kitchen and make us some dinner and then, after that, I think we ought to hit the hay too; it's been a long day for all of us." He cocked his chin at their son. "You sure you'll be all right?"

"Absolutely." Sara assured him with an answering smile as she continued to rock back and forth cradling their son. "Now that I'm where I'm supposed to be, I'll be perfectly fine."

An hour later, with the warm solidity of her husband's body behind her, one of his hands lying protectively over the barely perceptible swell of her abdomen and the fingers of the other tracing lazy circles around the open palm of her hand, Sara relaxed in the comfort and security of her own bed. They'd left one bedside lamp on - more as a beacon for a wandering Ben than anything else - and the lowered light level coupled with the gentle touches were lulling her to sleep.

"I've been thinking."

The words snapped her back to full consciousness and, smiling softly, she couldn't help but tease. "Nothing new there then."

"True," Grissom conceded, his breath so close to the back of her neck that he felt a shiver run through her. "But this time it's about that house we saw in Anthem."

"You mean the one we both loved right up until one of us caught sight of the – and I quote – 'nightmare of a backyard' and couldn't get out of there fast enough?" Sara asked wryly.

"Yeah, that's the one." Amused by her description, he smiled. "I checked the realtor's website earlier and it's still on the market so I think we should go back for another viewing."

"Really?" Surprised by the unexpected change of heart, Sara turned around to face him. "You do remember the place needs a new kitchen, right?"

"Uh-huh." Grissom nodded in the semi-dark of the room.

"And the entire interior has been painted that disgusting shade of yellow?"

"Yep." He confirmed with a nod. "But that's what contractors are for." One shoulder rose in a quick dismissive shrug. "Kitchens and painting aren't that big a deal, if anything we'll put our own stamp on the place by getting them done the way that we want them and we can factor in some of the cost of that work when it comes to making an offer."

"And the yard?" Sara asked dubiously, still not entirely sure he was serious.

"Is overgrown with every single plant you don't want growing in your garden if you've got kids." He conceded. "But a decent landscape gardener will take care of that for us." He sighed. "And, hopefully, they can put us in touch with a reliable pool service too _and_ someone to fence the damned thing in."

"You know, if having a pool is really going to be that big an issue for you-"

"It's not, honestly, it's just something that I'd never really considered before." Grissom shrugged. "But, it's something that, I imagine, the kids are going to love growing up with in their backyard." He narrowed his eyes. "You do still want to move, right? I mean, that is still the plan?"

"Yes, definitely." Propping her head up on her bent arm, Sara nodded with absolute conviction. "As much as I love this house, we're going to need more room and, despite that fact that the Anthem place needs some work, I thought it fitted the bill better than any of the others we looked at but," she cocked her head. "I don't want either one of us to end up settling on a house simply because we think the other wants it."

"I wouldn't be settling, Sara," he told her honestly. "I liked it, you liked it and, provided we can get it for a price we're both happy with, I think we ought to go for it."

"And security wise?" Both of her eyebrows rose in question. "Does that have any bearing on this sudden change of heart?"

"Maybe a little." Grissom grudgingly admitted. "After all, being in a cul-de-sac instead of on a long road like this place means there'll be neighbors around to keep an eye out for strangers plus it has block walls on both sides and along the back so that would only leave the front accessible and there are multiple positions available for security cameras and the like."

"Not that you've given that aspect of it much thought, huh?" Sara offered him a small smile. "We can't buy a house simply because it's a safer option, Gil."

"Sure we can if it's the right house for us." He nodded. "And, the more that I think about it, the more convinced I am that it is." Reaching out, he ran his a finger lightly up her arm. "But we don't have to make a decision about that tonight; we'll call the realtor tomorrow and make an appointment to go see it again."

He helped her turn around again and waited until she'd got herself settled before, once again, drawing her in against his chest.

"So, what do you think that was today?"

She'd said it quietly and at first wasn't sure that he'd heard but his slow intake of breath as he pondered the question told her otherwise.

"You know, I wish I knew." He unconsciously tightened his arm around her as if to ward of unseen dangers. "Catherine had a couple of theories she told me about as we were driving north to get you; one was that it was all a case of mistaken identity which, given the location of your release and the fact that whoever it was that took you made sure that you had my cell number, isn't going to hold water." He breathed in and then out again before continuing. "The other one was that it was someone playing a game and I think I'm leaning more towards that explanation than anything else." She felt him shrug. "Why else would they have let you go so quickly?"

"And unharmed," Sara added. "What would be the point of it though? What on earth would they be hoping to achieve?"

"I don't know, fear probably," Grissom guessed. "Letting us know that they're there and can do something like they did today - or worse - and there's nothing we can do about it. However, the problem with posturing like that is it gives us the chance to go on the defensive, to make sure that we do everything possible to counter the threat that they're making."

"Like moving house and turning the new one into a fortress?" Sara asked softly

"If necessary, yes." Looking past her to the framed photograph of Ben she kept on her bedside table and the new twelve-week scan of the baby that she'd propped up beside it, Grissom tightened his hold on his wife even further. "My family means the world to me, honey and I will make sure that both you and our children stay safe and protected if it's the last thing I do."

* * *

 **A/N 2:** Anyone out there with kids will, I sure, recognize the book that Sara and Ben were reading in this chapter but, just in case someone didn't (and to stop me being sued), it's Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

Thanks as always to the freshly tanned SylvieT for the beta


	5. Chapter 5

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 5 ~**

"But Sara's alright, yeah?" Sliding her coffee cup onto the break room table, Morgan pulled out a chair and sat down directly opposite Greg with a worried frown. "I mean, I heard that they'd kept her in the ER longer than expected but they eventually sent her home so she's got to be okay, right?"

"As far as I know she's perfectly fine," he replied with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I've tried calling her a couple of times but both her phone and Grissom's are going straight to voicemail." He shrugged. "I'll give it another shot in the morning."

"I imagine they decided to shut the world out for the night." She took a cautious sip of the piping hot liquid. "God knows, after a scare like that, I'd probably do the same."

"Yeah, probably." Greg agreed as he rubbed a finger back and forth across a tired eye. Between the discovery of Kay Nicholson's discarded body and Sara's abduction and subsequent reappearance, it had been a long, tiring day and, with only a couple of hours sleep under his belt, he wasn't exactly in the mood for small talk.

"Evening, guys." Bustling in through the open doorway, Catherine dropped the file she was carrying onto the table and made her way across to the coffee machine. "I don't know about you two but I've got my fingers crossed for a quiet night."

"That'd work for me." Greg answered truthfully as he frowned curiously at Catherine's clothes. "Isn't that the same outfit you had on this morning?"

"This morning _and_ this time last night." She plucked at the lapel of her jacket. "I haven't had time to go home and change yet; I've got a couple of things to do here that'll keep me busy for the next few hours but I'm hoping to squeeze a shower in sometime tonight." Filling her cup to the brim, she carried it back to the table and slid onto the chair to Greg's left. "So…" Reaching across, she pulled the file closer. "I guess it's update time on Sara, huh?"

"Shouldn't we wait for Lindsey?" Morgan queried as she watched her flip through the first few pages in the folder. "She'll be here any minute."

"Actually, she's already out in the field." Finding what she was after, Catherine smoothed out the paper as she looked up with a grin. "She made the mistake of coming in early again so she caught the first call of the night."

"Still trying to impress the boss, huh?" Morgan smiled, knowing all too well how difficult it could be to find yourself essentially working for a parent.

"Not quite, she was anxious to help with Sara's case but there really wasn't anything for her to do so she got stuck with a 419 instead; some drunk found his car missing, blamed the wrong guy for stealing it and ended up dead on the floor with a knife in his chest." She tapped her finger against the paper in front of her to bring their attention back to Sara's case. "Okay, let's take it from the top."

Catherine drew in a deep breath as she prepared to begin.

"Less than five minutes after Grissom left Sara and Ben to go into the Galleria mall, an early-model white van pulled up next to the Murano." Rifling through the file, she pulled out a series of screen grabs of the two cars side by side. "Now, unfortunately, both vehicles were parked far enough away from the nearest security cameras that we don't get particularly detailed pictures but we do get enough to see what went down." She spread the photos out so her audience could see. "The van driver obviously says something through the window to Sara as he pulls up because she puts her window all the way down and the minute that she does, he sticks his arm out of his window, points his hand towards her then you see her recoil and start to frantically brush at her face."

"He sprayed her with something." Greg guessed as he drained the last of his coffee.

"Yep," Catherine nodded. "And courtesy of some handy speculation from Grissom, we now know exactly what it was he used; traces of Midazolam were found in her blood and we also managed to find evidence of it on her clothes as well as on the Nissan's passenger seat where she was sitting."

"I've come across that stuff before," Greg told her. "There was a Swing case years back where a male nurse was using it as a date rape drug; it has a very short half-life." He shrugged. "It's surprising you were able to find it in a blood sample at all."

"Another fifteen minutes and we probably wouldn't have but, thanks to Grissom's guess, that was the first thing we tested for." She touched the next photo. "Now, after spraying her, the driver appears to keep talking to her and within a minute or so, Sara calms right down so, clearly, the sedative has taken hold and, not long after that, she gets out of the Nissan, walks around to the passenger side of the van, climbs in and then the van pulls away."

"Is Ben all right?" Morgan queried worriedly. "His car seat is usually right behind the front passenger seat."

"Ben's fine." Catherine assured her. "You don't actually see any movement from his position until after Sara's gone so I think he's just woken up to find himself alone and got a little scared; his father was back at the car within minutes and there was no evidence of overspray or anything else around the car seat so he was just upset, that's all."

"So, we don't have anything that might help us ID this guy?" Greg asked studying each of the images arrayed before him.

"Not from the Galleria cameras we don't but we do get a little luckier with the footage from the Old Orchard mall." Reaching into the folder again, Catherine extracted another photo. "This was taken as the van turned in to the parking lot from Maryland Parkway and it gives us our one and only peek at Sara's abductor."

"Still a little grainy but…" Leaning forward, Greg stared at the photograph with interest. "I'm going to say mid-fifties to mid-sixties, a little on the heavy side, grey hair, receding hairline." He shrugged. "Might be able to tell a bit more if he wasn't wearing those sunglasses but, all in all, he looks kind of average, doesn't he?"

"In my experience, that's the best way to blend in." Catherine smiled then shrugged a little dejectedly. "It's not a lot but at the moment it's all we've got and, if nothing else, we can at least run it by Sara and see if it might jog her memory; according to the doctors, that's highly unlikely with Midazolam, which is why they use it for twilight sedation, but I'm hoping she was with him long enough for something to have taken hold.

"We've got the California licence plates." Sitting back, Greg pointed towards the printout. "Something's been smeared over the top of them to try and obscure the letters and numbers but it shouldn't be too hard to work out what they are."

"We already have," Catherine told him. "And, according to the records, they were reported stolen off a 2012 Chevy Malibu in Victorville two months ago."

"That's what, two and a half hours away?" Greg frowned. "So, he's either commuting or he's a fairly recent arrival."

"But he knows Vegas and, perhaps more tellingly, he knows Sara's history; there's no way that leaving her at the mall next door to her old apartment block was a fluke."

"So, he drives up, parks the van, takes Sara to that service corridor and then takes off?" Morgan asked. "That seems a little risky, doesn't it?"

"He didn't take her in; Sara took herself in." Catherine looked up, still mildly amused by the security footage she'd watched earlier. "He drops her off at the door, drives away and then she enters the mall alone, lets herself into that corridor and then, a couple of minutes later, steps back out and looks around as if she's never seen the place before." She shrugged. "That's all courtesy of the final hold of the Midazolam, he's obviously told her what to do and she's obediently done it."

"Bastard!" Filled with anger and indignation on his friend's behalf, Greg almost spat the word out. "She's going to be okay, isn't she? There'll be no side-effects or anything?"

"The drug is completely out of her system," she promised him. "I've given her the rest of the week off but really all she needs now is a good night's sleep and she'll be fine." Catherine paused for a moment before continuing. "There is something you guys ought to know though." She cleared her throat self-consciously and, lowering her voice, leaned in a little towards the others. "Under normal circumstances I wouldn't be telling you this but everyone's going to know about it soon enough and, as the people who'll be working closest with Sara, I think it's important that her team know exactly what it is that's at stake." She looked from one to the other, a smile slowly forming on her face. "I found out today that sometime around mid-March, Ben is going to be a big brother."

"Really?" Greg's weariness disappeared instantly and he chuckled at the news. "You know, I had a feeling something was going on with her." He grinned happily at Morgan, seeing his own delight clearly mirrored on her face. "Hey, we've got another member on our team."

"Uh, let's keep that to ourselves for the time being though, okay." Catherine held up a restraining hand. "Like I said, Sara and Grissom will make it public soon enough but, for now-"

"My lips are sealed."

Her head shot round at the unexpected words and Catherine felt her stomach drop at the sight of a bemused and smirking David Hodges standing in the break room doorway.

* * *

He'd hoped for something a little bigger but the downside of appropriating vehicles from drunks had always been that, until you found it in the parking lot, there was almost no way of knowing exactly what it was they'd arrived in. You could, sometimes, get a hint thanks to the keys that you lifted from them but, more often than not, it still turned out to be the vehicular equivalent of a lucky dip and, this time, he thought as he stretched his long legs out as much as the Kia Forte's foot well would allow, had not exactly been a winner.

The color was good, black was almost as generic as white when it came to blending a vehicle in amongst others and the seven year old car was still young enough to mix with those already parked on the street without standing out too much but the coupe was, without a doubt, too small for him to sit in for long and, glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he decided that ten minutes more would be his absolute limit.

Not that there was much point in hanging around he thought as he stared over at the Grissom house, neither of them had shown themselves and the place had been in darkness for the past half hour so he assumed they'd decided on an early night. He could hardly blame them for that, after all, it had been an eventful day for all of them.

He hadn't meant to show his hand the way he had but when the opportunity arose he couldn't pass it up. True, it hadn't panned out quite the way he'd envisaged but he was more than satisfied with his day's work and he now had a range of possibilities open to him.

Bright headlights flashed in the rear-view mirror and he slid as low down in the driver's seat as he was able, watching transfixed as a marked LVPD sedan slid almost silently past his position and slowed to a crawl as it traveled by the house. This was the third drive-by that he'd sat through and he guessed that patrols in the area had been stepped up in light of the day's events; par for the course considering who the key participants were but if there was one thing he'd learnt about law enforcement over the years, it was that they wouldn't be able to keep up that frequency - newer, fresher crimes would take precedence and resources would be stretched so thin that eventually things would return to normal. All he'd have to do was wait it out.

Satisfied that all was well, the patrol car sped up and, seconds later, disappeared around a curve in the road and, sitting up straight in the driver's seat, he decided he might as well do the same.

Gazing over one last time at the darkened house, he mentally planned his trip back home. He'd have to dump the Kia of course and then, unfortunately, his van since he had to assume it been seen but once he'd done that, it ought to be a relatively easy trip back to the house in North Las Vegas; a house he'd left before dawn to dispose of the lifeless body of Kay Nicholson and was returning to after dark filled with ideas and plans for his future and also for the Grissoms.

After all, it would be a while now before he could take her and truly make her his but he could, in the meantime, have a little fun with the family and if one, or more, of them ended up hurt - or worse - in the proceedings, as far as Zephyr Dillinger was concerned, that's just the way it had to be.

 **A/N:** Thank you, SylvieT :)


	6. Chapter 6

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 6 ~**

* * *

 **A/N1:** My apologies for the gap between postings, it's been ridiculously busy here over the past few weeks and finding time to put this chapter together hasn't been easy but the good news is that all of that should be done with come this Friday so I ought to have a little more free time on my hands from here on out.

 **PLEASE NOTE** : THANKS TO A PRETTY MAJOR HICCUP THAT THE SITE EXPERIENCED LAST MONTH THAT RESULTED IN CHAPTER ALERTS NOT BEING SENT OUT, SOME OF YOU MAY NOT HAVE READ CHAPTER 5 OF THIS STORY AND, SINCE IT CONTAINS A PARTICULAR PIECE OF INFORMATION THAT'S SOMEWHAT IMPORTANT TO THE REST OF SLOW BURN, YOU MAY WANT TO CHECK IT BEFORE CONTINUING ON WITH THIS ONE. :)

* * *

It had been a long morning but a satisfying one and, hoisting a sleeping Ben carefully out of his car seat, Sara breathed a sigh of relief knowing that their seemingly constant running around was almost at an end. With settlement on the Anthem house only three days away and final decisions on paint schemes and kitchen tiles now made, everything was set for the house to be handed over to the contractors first thing Monday morning and then, provided all went according to plan, they'd be moving in themselves in a little over a fortnight's time.

"I was going to get him." Having detoured momentarily to unlock the door that led from the garage to the house, Grissom rounded the back of the SUV and frowned at the sight of his wife cradling their currently dead-weight toddler. "You said your back was sore last night, I don't want you hurting yourself by lifting him."

"He weighs next to nothing," she countered, adjusting the little boy slightly over the curve of her now obvious bump. "But, even if he didn't, I'd still carry him in; besides, according to everything I've read, backache is par for the course for the next four and a half months or so." She smiled almost ingenuously. "And there's also the fact that if I'm getting Ben settled that means you're stuck putting the groceries away."

"Stubborn or devious?" Grissom narrowed his eyes as his mouth quirked up into an easy smile. "I still haven't made up my mind on that one."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to do that while you're unpacking all those bags." She cocked her head in the direction of the open garage door. "And you might want to check the mail before you start; I'm pretty sure there's something in the box."

"I'm leaning towards devious now." With his key fob in hand, Grissom pressed a button and stepped out of the way as the Nissan's tailgate slowly began to rise.

"Good, that's the one I would have gone with too." With a chuckle to herself, Sara stepped around him and quickly made her way into the kitchen.

The house was cool and quiet, a welcome change after the noise of the supermarket that they'd battled their way through. With Halloween less than a week away, the number of customers intent on filling their trolleys with nothing but over-the-top decorations and candy had amazed her. She rubbed her hand rhythmically around Ben's back as she carried him along the hallway to his room and made a pledge – to herself that she'd do everything in her power not to turn into _that_ kind of parent. As a young child she remembered enjoying the celebration and superstition of the day but, as with a lot of things now, much of the fun had been lost to both commercialisation and an almost rabid competition for the best costumes and decorations and that was one particular road she simply wasn't interested in going down.

Pushing open the bedroom door with her foot, she placed Ben gently on top of his _Paw Patrol_ comforter, slipped his sneakers off his feet and draped a chenille throw lightly over the top of him. The nocturnal visits to his parent's room had all but disappeared with his move into a twin-size bed and Sara smiled to herself as she mentally ticked off yet another milestone in the little boy's life. She'd never really expected to be a mother but now she revelled in the role with every single achievement of Ben's filling her with both joy and wonder and, she thought as she placed both hands over the swell of her abdomen, with his sibling on the way, she was more than a little excited at the prospect of what was to come.

Backing quietly out of the room, she left the door ajar and entered her own, gratefully toeing off the shoes she'd been dying to lose for the past hour or so; after being on her feet for most of the last four hours, both her feet and legs were feeling a little the worse for wear. Crossing over to the dresser, she was smoothing her windswept hair into some semblance of order when she caught sight of the bed behind her and frowned; she'd been the last one to leave the room before they departed and she was sure that the bed had been perfectly made but now the top two pillowcases were gone.

She turned on the spot and stared at the king size bed; the duvet in its teal paisley cover was just as she'd left it, as were the rear pillows but the front two had been stripped of their cases and, for the life of her, she couldn't imagine why. She scanned the room but found no sign of them and, perplexed by the entire affair, she was just about to call out to her husband when he beat her to it.

"Sara?"

She'd heard him say her name in all manner of ways over the years – anger, exasperation, concern, love, passion – but she'd never heard it said in that particular tone before and it, on top the mystery of the missing bedding, instantly set her on edge.

She crossed to the open doorway and listened for noise, some steps perhaps or the rustle of a grocery bag as it was emptied of its contents however there was nothing but the selfsame silence that she'd experienced when she entered from the garage and her unease grew.

"Sara…" The call came again, the timbre and cadence still a little off to her ear. "Could you come through to the kitchen, honey? There's something you need to see."

She exhaled audibly, relief rushing through her at the words; she'd found things out of place and so, she surmised, had Grissom. Clearly someone had been in the house during their absence although who that might be and what on earth they thought they were up to she couldn't even begin to guess at.

"Sara!" His tone was more insistent now and, guessing that he was becoming frustrated by her continued silence, she stepped out into the hallway and hurriedly made her way back to the kitchen.

She saw what the urgency was the moment she entered the room.

The intruder was a giant or, at least, he looked that way to her.

Standing beside the dining room table he was dressed completely in black with his face obscured by a dark ski mask and that, coupled with his height was frightening enough but it was the iron-like grip he had on her husband's neck and the large handgun he held flush to his temple that caused her to freeze on the spot.

"Come all the way in, Sara." The voice was calm and controlled and instantly familiar. "Don't just stand there in the doorway."

She knew it was him, knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the same man who had taken her that day.

"I'm sorry, honey…" Trying desperately to make eye contact, Grissom tried turning towards her only to grimace in pain as the fingers digging into his flesh tightened their hold. "He was in here when I got back with the mail."

"Actually I've been here for hours." Thanks to the ski mask, Sara couldn't see the satisfied grin that accompanied the words but she knew it was there nonetheless. "I waited in the living room until I knew both of you were inside and then I made my presence known." He stared across at Sara. "I told you to come in, Sara; I'm going to need your assistance and you can hardly give it to me from there."

"What…" Her voice was shaky, shock and fear making her sound weak and helpless and that was something she definitely did not want him to think so she hurriedly cleared her throat and tried again. "What do you want?"

"Nothing much." Clearly surprised by the display of bravado, he tilted his head as he studied her from across the room. "Let's just say it's something of a house call; I wanted to touch base with you but I also need to speak to your husband." Dragging his attention away from Sara, he glared at his tightly held captive for a moment before looking back at her. "I think he needs to know where we all stand, don't you?"

"I know where we all stand." Desperate to get his captor attention away from his wife, Grissom tried his hardest to pull free of the hand gripping his neck only to have the fingers tighten further still as the handgun shifted from his temple to the back of his head.

"Now that was probably the dumbest move you could have made." Despite the circumstances, there was a hint of humour in both the voice and the eyes that stared triumphantly down at Grissom. "Sara?" He cocked his chin in the direction of the front of the house. "Go through there and get my backpack for me, please, and then you can pull one of the dining chairs over here and we'll see if we can make your husband a little more comfortable than he currently is."

Afraid of what might happen if she failed to comply, Sara made her way to the living room and quickly located the bag that had been stashed out of sight down the side of one of the sofas. She carried it back, re-entering the kitchen just in time to watch Grissom being manhandled into the middle of the room and she hurriedly pulled one of the timber chairs free and dragged it across to the space directly behind him.

"Take a seat, Gil." With a hand now clamped around his throat, Grissom's eyes rose to meet those of the man standing before him as he was unceremoniously pushed down onto the chair. "I don't really plan on being here long but I think we'll all feel a little better about things if you're not in a position to try and fight me." He looked over at Sara. "Open the bag and get the duct tape; I need to make sure he's not going anywhere."

"I know you, don't I?" Despite the pain that was now erupting through his trachea, Grissom smiled knowingly at the man holding him down. "We've met before."

"You're right, we have."

His attention shifting dismissively from Grissom to Sara, the intruder beckoned her closer to the chair.

"I think we'll start around the back." He paused a moment until she was in place behind her husband then stepped back from the chair, the barrel of the gun levelled squarely at his prisoner's chest. "I want both wrists bound behind him and his ankles taped to the chair." He watched as she freed the starting edge of the tape. "And after that you can loop it around his body a few times so he's totally secure." Catching her eye, his voice hardened. "And I want it tight, Sara; if he gets free it will not bode well for you or the boy."

The mention of Ben sent a chill down Sara's spine and she nodded her acquiescence as she tore off a lengthy piece of tape. Reaching out, she took Grissom's hand, not at all surprised at the quick reassuring squeeze he gave her fingers, and then guided it to the back of the chair before reaching for its twin and binding both tightly behind him. Moving round to the front, she knelt and secured his legs before standing once again and running the tape completely around both his chest and the chair three times.

"Good." A large hand on her shoulder made her step backwards and she watched as their captor tested her handiwork. "Now a piece across his mouth, I think," he glanced back at Sara as his tone took on an almost teasing quality. "You want to do it or shall I?"

"I will!" Loath to have him any nearer her husband than he had to be, Sara pulled the final piece of duct tape free of the roll before leaning in with tear-filled eyes. "I'm so sorry; this is my entire fault."

"No it's not." Locking eyes with her, Grissom tried desperately to assuage the guilt that his wife so obviously felt. "There's only one person to blame for all this and it's not you." He nodded towards the tape in her hand and offered her a small smile. "Just do as he says, honey; everything'll be fine, you'll see."

She moved forward, pressing the tape firmly across his lips as she stared imploringly into the bright blue eyes she knew so well just as two large hands reached past her and pulled one of the missing pillowcases down to completely cover Grissom's head and face.

"Okay, if that doesn't hold him nothing will. Here…" From the tone of his voice he was clearly pleased with both their efforts and a shiver ran down Sara's spine at the thought as the backpack was thrust into her empty hands. "Bring this with you; we're going back to the bedroom."

The words wrought a muffled, agonised cry out of Grissom and, turning in surprise, Sara watched as he thrashed against the tape that bound him but a sudden sharp jab to the side of his head stopped the struggle instantly and the gun that just connected with her husband's skull swung quickly around to point at her.

"Don't make me hurt both of you, Sara." For the first time since he'd appeared, a hint of uncertainty sounded in the intruder's voice and Sara pulled her attention away from Grissom's now still form and back to the man beside her. "It's not going to end well for anyone if you do."

She nodded her understanding, knowing in her heart that she was the only one that could get them out of this now and, regardless of what that may entail, that was precisely what Sara intended to do. Taking the bag by one of its straps, she let it fall to her side and then, with a final look back at her clearly unconscious husband, left the kitchen and led the small procession back to the master bedroom.

"Get on the bed."

"No, please…" Backing away as much as the room allowed, Sara vehemently shook her head.

"Relax, okay?" His voice softened slightly and reaching out, he grabbed hold of her arm. "Despite what your husband may think, I have absolutely no interest in raping you." He tugged her back to the side of the large bed. "In fact, the thought of sex with a pregnant woman disgusts me so you have nothing to fear on that front." Shifting his hand to the middle of her back, he pushed her forward until she had no choice but to climb onto the bed. "I just need to separate the two of you for a while and the quicker you cooperate, the quicker I'll leave you in peace." Lying as rigidly as possible on top of the duvet, Sara watched him warily as he seemed to study her intently.

"Okay, I think on your side is probably going to be best."

She felt the heavy weight of the gun settle on the bed beside her head and flinched in fear as two hands slipped beneath her flank and guided her over to face the room's far wall.

"Yes, I think that'll make things easier for both of us."

He kept one hand on her hip, holding her in place as he rummaged through the backpack and Sara listened closely as she tried to come up with some way to gain the upper hand.

"Why are you doing this?" She'd been determined not to speak to him anymore than was absolutely necessary but the question tripped out of her almost unbidden, her subconscious clearly desperate for some sort of explanation for what seemed to her to be an unprovoked attack on her family. "Why us? What have we done to you?"

"Do I really have to tell you?" Pulling the packaging from a new roll of duct tape, he tossed the cellophane wrapping onto the bed beside her and pulled both of her hands behind her back. "After all that we've been through together, surely I don't have to explain."

She felt the tape looping around her wrists, not as tightly as she'd wound Grissom's but uncomfortable nonetheless and she winced in discomfort as he manhandled her until she was face-up once again.

"I'm going to tape your legs now but, without something to attach you to, I'm really not sure how secure it's going to be so you and I are going to have to come to an agreement about trust, okay?" Pulling a long length of the tape free, he crossed one of her ankles over the other and quickly strapped them up before pressing a final piece across her mouth just as she had done a short while earlier to Grissom. "If you promise to lie here and not try and get free for at least fifteen minutes, I'll promise not go next door and visit your son; do we have a deal?"

Watching him closely, she saw the way his eyes had flashed darkly at the mention of Ben and she hurriedly nodded her agreement.

"Good girl." Stepping slightly back from the bed, he quickly retrieved the gun and slipped it into the backpack before pulling out the other missing pillowcase.

"Now…" Sara watched as he shook the fabric out and opened the mouth of it before leaning in towards her. "I need some time to talk to your husband so, when I leave this room, I want you to start counting." She closed her eyes as he slipped the pillowcase over her head and firmly tugged it down until the excess material was resting on her shoulders. "There's nine hundred seconds in fifteen minutes and I want you to count each and every one of them before you try and get free. Agreed?"

Unable to speak, she nodded as much as her position would allow and then held her breath as she heard him backing his way towards the bedroom door.

"I mean it, Sara." She heard a rustling noise and imagined him shifting the backpack from one hand to the other as he watched her. "You appear any sooner than that and you won't like the way this is going to end."

She lay there, unmoving far longer than the fifteen minutes that he'd demanded. The shock of the day's events and the fear of his sudden reappearance kept her pinned to the bed for over half an hour but, eventually, both the absolute silence of the house around her and a creeping conviction that he was long gone from the scene allowed her to begin to twist and turn her arms and legs enough to loosen the adhesive ties that bound her.

Stripping the duct tape from her hands, she quickly pulled the pillowcase off her head and peeled the sticky plastic strip from her mouth before she blinked myopically in the mid-afternoon sunlight that permeated the bedroom. She sat for a moment, partly to get her proper bearings and partly to listen once again for noises but there were none and, kicking her feet free from the final remnants of tape, she swung her legs off the bed, crossed the room to the open doorway and then entered the hallway beyond.

The door to Ben's room was still slightly open and, slowly swinging it wide, she allowed herself a sigh of relief at the sight of the still sleeping boy curled up on his bed.

Backing silently away from the door, she pressed herself against the far wall and continued edging her way down the short corridor. He was long gone from the house now, she was certain of that; it all felt so normal now, as though his presence was gone and she felt herself begin to relax again as she moved to stand in the kitchen doorway.

Grissom was in exactly the same position he'd been in when she'd been forced to leave him. Slumped in the chair as much as the tape holding him would allow, his pillowcase-covered head, was down, his chin obviously resting on his chest and from her position, Sara could just make out the small bloodstain that marked the place where their attacker's gun had made contact with his skull.

"Gil?"

Hurrying around to the front of the chair, she reached first for his hand, worry escalating in her at the feel of his lax fingers in hers.

"Come on, baby; let me know you're okay."

She squeezed his hand, trying to gauge his level of consciousness but got no response and tried to quell her rising panic as she reached for the pillowcase. It pulled free instantly, allowing her a perfect view of the dime-sized bruise that marked his temple and the thin trickle of blood that had run from it.

"Come on, Grissom; don't do this to me!"

She tossed the pillowcase to the floor and cupped his jaw in both hands, gently raising his head in order to get a clear look at his face but, instead, found herself staring into her husband's fixed and lifeless eyes.

* * *

 **A/N2** : Thanks, as always, goes to SylvieT. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 7 ~**

He had an armful of books when the scream began and, without a moment's hesitation, he threw them all to the floor and took off at a run.

He cut through the kitchen and had just turned into the hallway when the sound abruptly stopped but still he continued on, taking the corner at speed and only slowing as he approached the bedroom door where he quickly twisted the handle and pushed the door wide.

"Sara?" Standing in the doorway, his eyes raked quickly over the room searching for dangers of any kind before coming to rest on its single occupant. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry; I'm fine." Struggling to catch her breath, Sara sat upright in the middle of the large bed; the bedding was twisted around her and both her hair and the faded 51's t-shirt that she'd recently appropriated for sleepwear were damp with sweat. "Just a nightmare, that's all." She huffed out a brief embarrassed laugh as she roughly rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Well, afternoon-mare is probably more appropriate, I guess." She drew in a deep, calming breath as she extracted herself from the tangle of bedding. "What time is it?"

Moving into the room fully, Grissom allowed himself a sigh of relief as he checked his watch. "A little after one." Stepping soundlessly across the freshly laid carpeting, he crossed to the bed and eased himself down on the edge. "You've only been asleep for a couple of hours."

"Really could have done without that last one," she joked as she met his worried look with what she hoped was a reassuring one of her own. She pushed herself back to recline against the headboard and crossed her legs at the ankles. "Thank god Ben isn't here; I probably would have scared him to death."

"Well, he wouldn't have been alone in that," he admitted with a smile as he placed a comforting hand on his wife's bare knee. "So, how did he kill me this time?"

The nightmares had been a semi-regular occurrence ever since she'd been taken from the Galleria's parking lot. There was no particular pattern to them, some weeks she'd have one or two and others she wouldn't have any at all but each and every one of them ended with Grissom dying at the hands of her abductor.

"Does it matter?" Rubbing her hand lightly over her stomach, Sara shuddered at the memory of the dream she'd just experienced. "It's over now; I'd just as soon forget it."

"You remember what the therapist said, right?" A single eyebrow arced in question and Grissom cocked his head as he caught her eye. "And what we agreed? No bottling things up; when you have a dream like that, we talk it through so that you can get it out of your system." Grabbing hold of her hand, he squeezed her fingers lightly. "It's not good for you and it's not good for the baby if you simply brush it off and go on like nothing's happened."

"I know, I just…" Sara sighed heavily and shook her head. "You know there are times when I could kill Catherine for making me go for counseling again."

"If she hadn't, I would have," he told her honestly. "I made the mistake of not getting you the support you needed once before, remember?"

"Back then, I would have fought you tooth and nail and you know it." Her voice softened. "Now, although I hate every minute of it, I know for my sake - for our family's sake - it's something that I need to do." She grinned. "But don't tell Catherine that I said that."

"After having our pregnancy news escape the way it did, I'm very careful with what I let her in on these days." He smiled as he spoke but Catherine's accidental disclosure to Hodges and the man's obvious delight at spreading word of the pregnancy to all and sundry still rankled. "So, in the words of your therapist, vocalize the nightmare for me."

"Okay, you win." Knowing there was no way he'd let the subject drop, Sara rolled her eyes melodramatically. "It was a couple of days before we closed on this place so about four weeks ago, I guess." She felt her hand tighten into a fist as the memories of the dream washed through her and made a conscious effort to relax it again before continuing. "He was waiting for us when we got back to the Henderson house. I took Ben inside; he'd fallen asleep in the car so I carried him through to his bedroom and got him settled."

She looked up suddenly, a mixture of raw fear and anger written clearly on her face.

"I must have walked right past him and I didn't have a clue, everything was just as it should have been, there was nothing to tell me he was there." She shuddered at the thought. "He could have stopped me then, he could have taken Ben, he could have-"

"Sara!" The hand around hers tightened suddenly and she looked down to see Grissom slip his fingers between hers. "It wasn't real, remember; it was a dream and he can't hurt you or Ben or…" He shrugged lightly. "…even me."

"I know." "She breathed out slowly in a concerted effort to regain her composure then offered him a shaky smile. "These dreams just seem so real at times though, so fresh." She shook her head. "Sometimes it almost feels like he's visiting me, you know? Like he's actually here."

"He's not though and he never will be." He lightly rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. "Every dream you've had about him has taken place in Mom's house not this one and we left there a fortnight ago. He has no idea where we've gone and, to be honest, I really doubt he'd care anyway; it's been ten weeks since he took you from the mall and there hasn't been even a hint of him hanging around since. Whatever the hell that was all about, I think he realized that day that he'd bitten off more than he could chew and that's why he let you go as quickly as he did." He shrugged dismissively. "I don't think he's the threat that your nightmares make him out to be, honey; I think you're safe here, I think we're all safe."

"Which is why you have an appointment with a home security consultant tomorrow, huh?" Sara commented drily.

"Actually, that's just me being sensible; inside this house is everyone and everything that matters to me and I'm not taking any chances with them." Grissom's mouth quirked up into an easy grin. "Not to mention, we'll save a fortune on insurance premiums by having the place kitted out with a top of the line security system and the company that Jim recommended has promised that that's exactly what they'll give up."

"At a price." She pointed out, a little dubious that they really needed everything her husband seemed determined to get.

"Of course at a price," Grissom scoffed good-naturedly. "But we can afford it and, I think, for everyone's peace of mind it's a necessity." He shrugged. "I want our lives and our children's lives to be as safe and worry-free as possible and this seems like the most sensible way to ensure that." He kept his hand locked around hers as he made himself a little more comfortable on the side of the bed. "I thought I'd give Jim a call and see if he's free tomorrow so he can be here when the guy arrives, I think between the three of us, we ought to be able to cover all the bases."

"I think he's working nights at the moment, isn't he?" Sara frowned as she tried to remember. "I'm sure Helen mentioned something about that last-"

She stopped suddenly and drew in a sharp breath then, twisting her hand in his, used it to push his fingers tightly against the mound of her stomach.

"Here, press here." Holding Grissom's hand in place, she looked almost imploringly at him. "Can you feel it?"

She'd done this a number of times over the weeks since she'd first felt the baby move but, as much as they'd tried, he'd not been able to feel a thing; however now, with the initial faint flutterings morphing into tiny taps and kicks, she hoped she'd finally be able to begin sharing this particular aspect of her pregnancy with her husband.

Sara watched him anxiously, holding his hand ever tighter against her flesh and she breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of his mouth curving up into a delighted smile.

"I do, I can feel it." Moving his hand out from her grasp, Grissom covered a larger expanse of her belly with both his fingers and palm. "Right there," he looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. "That's our baby!"

"It certainly is." Sara concurred happily as she felt a slightly stronger jab land just beneath her husband's thumb. "I think he's just woken up."

"He?" Keeping his hand where it lay, Grissom chuckled. "For someone who decided she didn't want to know the sex at the last scan, you seem pretty certain it's a boy."

"Just a hunch, that's all." She shrugged lightly but then frowned. "You didn't mind, did you? About not finding out, I mean."

"No, not at all." Absently stroking the skin beneath his fingers, Grissom smiled. "I told you that day that I was leaving the decision up to you and I'm more than happy to wait to find out if this is Ben's little brother or little sister."

Satisfied that all was well, Sara relaxed against the headboard again. "Did you do this with Ben? Did you get to feel him before he was born?"

"No." He shook his head, his attention fixed once again on his hand and the intermittent movements going on beneath it. "I really wasn't all that comfortable around Melissa when she turned up in Flagstaff and, although I'd have loved to, I never felt as though I had the right to ask." He glanced up, his expression a mixture of bemusement and embarrassment. "There was also the fact that, until Ben was born and I saw him for myself, I couldn't be entirely sure that she was telling the truth about him being mine." He shrugged and sighed. "I could see his movements though, even through her clothing, you could see her stomach shift whenever he moved around."

"Well this one you can feel anytime you like." Reaching down again, Sara replaced her hand on his. "In fact, I'm going to insist on it and that goes for Ben too. According to the book I'm reading at the moment, the more the four of us get to know each other now, the quicker and easier it'll be to settle everyone into a workable routine when he finally gets here."

"Or she." Grissom pointed out. "Hunches have been known to be wrong, you know."

"I know," Sara smiled. "And, honestly, I'm not going to be disappointed if I'm mistaken but, right now, my money's on a boy."

"Well, I think he or she has gone back to sleep." With no further movement to be felt, Grissom slipped his hand off her stomach and pushed to his feet. "So, I guess the question now is, are you going to do the same?"

"Me?" Sara shook her head. "Uh-uh, not right now; I might be feeling better about the nightmare that I had but I'm not sure I'm willing to risk revisiting it just now." Wrinkling her nose, she plucked at the neck of her damp t-shirt. "No, I think I might grab a shower and then spend some time helping you sort out your office and, if I feel like it later, I'll get another couple of hours sleep before I have to leave for work." She cocked her head. "What time are you picking up Ben?"

"I told Lily I'd be there about four." He checked his watch. "Which, with two of us working on it, ought to give us plenty of time to get the office finished before his majesty decides to 'help' us with the task." Holding his hands out, he assisted Sara off the bed. "But first things first, while you hit the shower I'll go and rustle you up some lunch; you've got to be hungry."

"At the moment I'm always hungry." She commented with a chuckle as she grabbed her robe from the end of the bed. She started towards the en-suite bathroom but turned back suddenly. "Oh, and it was an accident or, at least, I think it was."

In the process of straightening out the bedding, Grissom frowned in confusion.

"Huh?"

"Your cause of death." Leaning casually against the door frame, Sara hugged her robe to her chest. "I was forced to tie you to a chair and when you struggled he lashed out with his gun and caught you on the temple."

"Well, that's certainly a lot less violent than some of the ways he's finished me off." He kept his tone deliberately light, not really wanting her to dwell any more than was necessary on the events of her nightmare. "Maybe that means he's losing his hold on you?

"Yeah, maybe." Following her husband's movements as he travelled around the bed smoothing the last of the creases from the duvet cover, Sara couldn't help but stare at the area around his temples. "I sure as hell hope so, anyway."

* * *

Five minutes later, having retrieved the books he'd earlier thrown across the living room floor, Grissom carried them into his home office and slid them carefully onto the edge of his desk. He stood for a moment, staring out through the window to the quiet street beyond; he'd meant what he'd told her, he really did believe they'd be safe here or, at least, they would be as soon as the last of the landscape work was finished and the security measures were all in place.

Satisfied with everything they'd achieved so far, he pulled his cellphone from his pocket and quickly dialed Jim's number before turning from the window and leaning back against the edge of the solid timber desk. He stared at the wall of bookshelves as he waited for Brass to pick up and it was at the exact same moment that his friend did that the dusty black sedan rolled by unnoticed outside.


	8. Chapter 8

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 8 ~**

Levering her leather work boots off, Sara tugged both socks free, wriggled her freshly liberated toes and sighed in relief. A brazen 6am ram raid at a liquor store had taken the better part of four hours to process and, with brick dust, glass shards and wood splinters covering almost every surface, she'd been forced to work the entire thing on her feet, an action both her lower legs and back were now paying the price for.

"Hey." Standing in the doorway, Catherine checked her watch before smiling happily at the younger woman. "I thought you'd have been gone long ago."

"Given the mess the morons left behind I'm surprised I'm not still there." Balling up her socks, Sara shoved them into one of the boots and placed the lot on the floor of her open locker before rubbing her knuckles roughly against her lumbar spine. "But I think it was worth it; with the amount of fingerprints I pulled out of both the store and the pickup, we ought to be able to identify all of them."

"That's great." Entering the room fully, Catherine took a seat beside her on the bench. "I'm just sorry you were the only one available when the call came in; I was hoping to get you out of here on time this morning especially since I know you didn't sleep well yesterday."

"Grissom called you?" Sara glared at her indignantly. "He had absolutely no right to-"

"Hold up," Catherine raised her hand to stop the tirade. "Grissom never called me, he didn't have to; I could see how tired you were the minute you walked through the door last night." She chuckled at the sudden look of remorse that flashed across her friend's face. "And if there's one thing I remember vividly about working this job whilst pregnant it's how easy it is to keep pushing through that tiredness until, one day, it hits you like a freight train and that is something that is not good for you and it's definitely not good for that baby you're carrying." She cocked her head towards Sara's midriff. "How's our little friend in there doing?"

"Good," Sara automatically placed her hand over her stomach as her mouth curled up into a smile. "Well, great actually; according to the last scan, everything is just as it should be and, according to the app on my phone, he or she is about the size of a papaya." Her smile morphed into a delighted grin. "Gil actually managed to feel some kicks yesterday."

"I bet that made his day." Pulling open her own locker, Catherine reached in and extracted her purse. "I, um, don't suppose he's said anything to you, has he?" She glanced at Sara. "About the offer I made, I mean."

"Days supervisor?" Sara frowned. "I thought Richardson had decided to stick around."

"Only for another couple of months and considering what it took to convince him to do that, I really don't think I'll be able to get another extension out of him." Closing her locker door, Catherine fixed the younger woman with a determined glare. "I want your husband, Sara."

"Well, you never were one to beat around the bush, were you, Cath?" More than a little amused by the comment, Sara bit back a grin. "And there I was thinking Heather Kessler was my only competition."

"I meant for the lab and you know it." Catherine sighed in exasperation. "At this particular moment in time, I'm not considering anyone else for the job; I want Grissom back at the lab and I want him there as supervisor of Days." She looked almost imploringly towards Sara. "And I'm hoping I can get you to help with that; he must have spoken to you about it."

"Sure he did," Sara agreed as she pulled out a pair of black Birkenstocks and slipped her swollen feet into them. "But that was weeks ago when you first brought it up with him; I, honestly, can't remember him saying anything about it since then."

"Which means what?" She shrugged.

"That he's either still mulling it over, which I think is unlikely considering he never mentioned it again or he essentially dismissed it from the outset." Softening her voice somewhat, Sara shrugged. "I told him when we discussed it that if he wants to take the job I'd back him one hundred percent but I really don't think he does; he's essentially his own boss now, Cath, I'm really not sure he'd want to go back to being someone else's."

"It kills me to know that all that knowledge and experience is going to waste while he wanders aimlessly around the damned desert." Pushing her locker door closed, Catherine rolled her eyes in exasperation. "The lab needs him, Sara; we need him."

"He doesn't wander aimlessly, he's actually working while he's out there, Catherine and it's something he enjoys doing." Grabbing her purse, Sara rummaged in it for her car keys. "He's fitter and healthier than he has been in years, he's certainly more relaxed and, best of all, he manages to leave his work behind in the office when he's finished for the day which is something he never got to do when he worked here." Leaning back again, she sighed. "Look, if the lab truly needed him, I have absolutely no doubt that he'd drop everything and be wherever it is you want him to be but I think that would only be on a consultancy basis not as a supervisor. I simply can't see him wanting to return to a part of his life that he was more than ready to give up when he did." She shook her head. "Not now; not with Ben in the picture and not…" She placed her hand lightly on top of her stomach. "With this one on the way.

"So, you're essentially telling me to forget it." There was no mistaking the disappointment in the older woman's voice and, pushing to her feet, Sara felt the need to offer her a little bit of hope.

"I'm not saying that because it's not my place to say it." Jingling her keys lightly in her hand, she checked her watch before looking up with a gentle smile. "The only person that can put you out of your misery on this is Grissom so he's the one you really need to speak to, not me." She edged towards the door. "In my opinion, the answer is probably going to be no but it wouldn't be the first time that man's surprised me so, who knows, Cath, maybe you stand a chance." Pulling the door open, Sara glanced back one final time. "But, if I were you, I really wouldn't get my hopes up."

* * *

"So, Sara's alright?" Pulling his eyes momentarily off Ben and his unsteadily growing Duplo tower, Jim glanced back over his shoulder as he spoke.

"Sara's fine." With a mug of piping hot coffee in one hand and an open juice box in the other, Grissom exited the kitchen and carefully made his way across to the large sectional sofa that dominated the living room. "She managed to get another couple of hours sleep before heading out last night and promised me she was good to go." Placing the mug on the coffee table in front of Brass, he shrugged. "I'd just like to get these damned dreams under control, that's all; knowing this is probably going to be her one and only pregnancy, I want her to be able to relax and enjoy it and not spend it working herself up into a nervous wreck because of nightmares."

"They're a pretty common phenomena after something like an abduction though," Jim reasoned as he picked up his drink and took a sip. "And, if I remember correctly, pregnant women do get weird dreams."

"True," Grissom conceded as, juice box still in hand, he took a seat. "But from what I've read, most of those nightmares are centred on the baby and Sara's aren't." He shrugged. "We're all put in danger to some extent but I seem to be the one that cops the brunt of it; I've been killed in every single one.

"Ah, so the real concern you have is that you think she wants you dead." Jim grinned playfully. "You do know that the vast majority of wives start to think that way after a while, don't you?"

"I don't think we're quite at that stage yet." Completely unappreciative of his friend's attempt at humor, Grissom decided a change of subject was in order. "Ben, you want your apple juice?"

Instantly losing interest in his blocks, the little boy pushed himself to his feet and scrambled the half dozen steps to his father.

"Gova?" Eyes bright with hope, he took the small carton of juice and wrapped his lips around the protruding straw.

"In about…" Grissom glanced at his watch. "… ten minutes, okay? You go and sit down and have your drink and I'll let you know when it's time for your show."

"Up?" With both hands tightly around the carton, Ben raised his elbows in the hope of a lift only to have his father shake his head.

"Uh-uh, you spill that on here and we're both going to get it." Pointing towards the Duplo, Grissom urged the little boy forward. "Finish it over there and then come back and I'll put the TV on for you, okay?"

"Gova?" Jim watched with amusement as Ben followed the instructions, carefully carrying the juice box back to his blocks and lowering himself to the floor beside them. "That's a new one on me."

"Sesame Street," Grissom explained with a somewhat sheepish smile. "It's his favorite program at the moment and Grover's his favorite character so, when we're at home, that's what we watch."

"I remember doing that with Ellie when she was about that age," Jim chuckled. "Although, if I remember correctly, she was into Big Bird; I always preferred Oscar myself."

"Now there's a surprise." Biting back a sarcastic grin, Grissom reached for the contract he'd not long ago signed. "You think Sara will be okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Brass frowned.

"I don't know." Grissom rubbed his hand roughly along his jaw line. "I'm just a little worried that she'll think I'm going overboard." He shrugged as he reread the contract. "I mean, she's expecting a beefed-up alarm system, sure, but hard-wired cameras outside plus a couple of wireless ones in the house, window and door alarms all over the place, twenty-four hour monitoring-"

"If you ask me, as an ex-cop, that's a damned good setup to go with," Jim told him honestly. "There are times that you can't be too safe, you know and Sara's been on the job long enough to know that so I'm sure she'll be fine." Movement caught his eye and he watched as Ben got to his feet again and placed his now-empty juice box on the coffee table. "Besides, when it comes to ensuring your family's safety, there's no such thing as going overboard."

"Up." Having returned to stand in front of his father, Ben raised both arms determinedly in the air.

"Okay, up you come." Reaching down, Grissom slipped his hands beneath the toddler's arms and hoisted him onto his lap before grabbing the television remote from the back of the sofa and pointing it at the wall-mounted unit. "There you go," he said as the screen came to life with the last five minutes of Splash and Bubbles. "This will finish soon and then you're all set, okay?"

Instantly enraptured by the animated fish swimming around on the TV, Ben absently nodded his agreement, a sight that made Jim smile. "Well, I guess that's him settled for the duration."

"You know," Grissom commented candidly. "I used to frown on parents that used television as a babysitter but, I have to admit, sometimes it's the easiest way to keep them quiet and occupied."

"Oh, yeah; I remember that from my parenting days as well." He cocked his head towards the contract once more. "I've got another couple of security suggestions you might want to consider."

"Such as?"

"Change your cars," Brass stated simply. "Both of them; we know he knows the Nissan and I think it's safe to say he's aware of the Prius as well." He shrugged. "Especially since Sara's hung on to it so long. Trade them both in and go for a popular make in a color that'll blend in on the road; the harder you can make it for someone to follow you, the better off you're going to be."

"Makes sense, I guess," Grissom grudgingly agreed. "The Prius was going to go anyway; as much as Sara loves it, she's admitted herself that it's not going to be practical with two kids in the backseat." He sighed. "I'd be sorry to lose the Murano though; it's really not that old."

"You'll get a good price for it then," Jim concluded with a smile. "There's no point, security-wise, of getting rid of one vehicle and not the other. And, since we're more or less on the subject," he cocked his chin towards the front of the house. "How long is the landscaper going to have that dumpster blocking your driveway?

"Another day or two I think; most of the back yard has been cleared now, there's just one more corner to do and the old pool fence to be dismantled and then it'll be gone." Grissom frowned. "Why?"

"Because, as soon as it is, I want the two of you to make sure that every time you come home you drive straight into the garage and stay inside the car until the door comes down to block the view from the street," He explained. "And do the same, in reverse, when you're leaving; I want to make it as hard as possible for someone to actually associate you with this house."

"She's going to love that one," Grissom commented dryly.

"You asked for ideas and I'm giving them to you." Jim shrugged good-naturedly. "I'm not going to make you implement them."

"I know," he acknowledged. "But we probably will; it is for the best after all."

"Oh and you need to get yourself a gun." Brass pre-empted the angry interruption he knew was about to come by carrying on without pause. "I know how you feel about the things, Gil but, seriously, for your family's sake, you're going to have to arm yourself with something and, even though you hate firearms, you always were one of the best shots around." He softened his tone a little in an attempt to win his friend over with a little logic. "Look, Sara has her service weapon but, if she's at work so is her gun and that leaves you with little to no protection." He nodded as if to hammer home his point. "And we can have a word with Conrad too and see about fast-tracking a concealed carry permit; that way, there's less chance of you being caught out unprepared."

He was expecting an outright refusal or perhaps even an argument but what he got instead was a steady stare and, eventually, a slow resigned nod.

"You're right," Grissom sighed heavily. "And, to be honest, it's something that I've already been thinking about." He gently ruffled Ben's hair. "I mean, it's not like we don't already have a precedence, half the time there's a gun in the house anyway." He shrugged. "I guess it makes sense to make sure there's one here all the time."

"Good." Exhaling in relief, Brass smiled. "That's the one I was really expecting a fight on." Reaching across, he clapped Grissom on the shoulder. "Now, since I've spent the better part of the morning doing you a favor, how about I get one in return?"

"Of course," Grissom nodded his agreement. "Just let me know what you need and I'm all yours."

"Okay…" Jim's smile widened. "I need a best man."

"Excuse me?" Grissom's eyes widened in surprise.

"You heard me," Brass chuckled at the look of incredulity on his friend's face. "Helen and I went out to dinner last night and somewhere between the main course and dessert I ended up proposing and she was silly enough to say yes." He grinned in delight. "We're going to get married next month."

 **A/N:** Thanks as always goes to SylvieT for the beta of this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 9 ~**

"Sometimes I wonder just how dumb they think we are." Pushing his camera back into his kit, Greg shook his head in disgust. "I mean, I don't mind people lying to me, I'm actually used to that, but they could at least try to come up with a plausible story once in a while."

"What?" Scribbling her signature on the last of the evidence bags, Sara looked up with a teasing grin. "You didn't believe him when he said he was simply taking a nostalgic walk around his old neighborhood and he happened to come across his soon-to-be ex-wife's house on fire?"

"Strangely, no." Swinging the kit into the rear of the large SUV, he rolled his eyes. "Especially since it turns out he's been living in Pahrump since they separated, he was taking his nostalgic stroll at 3am and the guy reeks of gas which, coincidentally, is the accelerant used to start the fire in the first place."

"You're becoming very cynical in your old age, Greg." Placing the bags and bindles safely in the back of the vehicle, she stepped back with a smile as he pulled the tailgate down. "You know that, right?"

"In our line of work cynicism is a little hard to avoid, isn't it?" Tugging his jacket closer around himself, Greg nodded towards the cabin of the truck. "Come on, let's get in out of this wind, huh?"

"My money's on a quick confession," Sara commented as she pulled open the passenger door and climbed in out of the cold desert wind that had been blowing in from the south-west all night. "He doesn't look like the type that'll hold out for long, he's just lucky his ex was staying over at her boyfriend's at the time or he could have found himself facing more than an arson charge." Pulling the seatbelt across, she clipped it securely. "You know, there's a diner over on Craig Road that I've heard does a pretty mean cheese omelette so how about we stop there on the way back and I'll buy you breakfast?"

"Is that you or the baby talking?" Settling himself behind the wheel, he chuckled. "I remember the days when the most you ever used to have for breakfast was coffee."

"Well, as far as I can tell, junior's asleep at the moment so I guess it must be me," she countered as she adjusted the seatbelt to more comfortably accommodate the swell of her abdomen. "And, for the record, apart from the occasional cup of green tea, I've been caffeine-free for months now which might just explain why I would kill for one of those omelettes so, what do you say?"

"I say we're stopping for breakfast." Turning the key in the ignition, he gunned the engine a couple of times before slowly easing the vehicle away from the curb and around the sole remaining fire truck. "This job might have taught me to be cynical about things but it also taught me never to pass up a free meal so, Craig Road here we come."

Situated at one end of a large strip mall, Lori's Diner was a little on the small side but bright, clean and surprisingly busy. They found an empty booth towards the back and had just placed their meal order with the waitress when Greg's cell phone beeped with an incoming message, the corners of his mouth rising into a satisfied smirk as he quickly scanned the contents.

"He cracked five minutes into the interview." He looked over, clearly delighted with the news. "Hendricks says they'd just sat down with him and his attorney when the guy told them he wanted to make a statement and then admitted to starting the fire; he refused to answer any questions so they've wrapped things up and he's being formally charged as we speak."

"Told you." Sara returned his smile with one of her own. "Well, that's just made everyone's jobs easier; with the amount of water the fire department used at the scene I was more than a little skeptical about some of the evidence we recovered; at least now, the case won't be dependent on that alone."

"Yeah, I thought about that too," Greg admitted. "But I guess we were worried for nothing." He sat back and smiled appreciatively as their waitress placed a tall glass of chilled water in front of Sara and slid a mug of freshly-brewed coffee towards him before turning his attention back to his dining companion. "So, what's it like?"

"What's what like?" Bemused by the question, Sara offered him a confused smile.

"Growing an entirely new person," he said, nodding towards her bump. "It's got to be weird, right?"

"Well, yeah, it is a little," Sara told him honestly. "But it's also wonderful, scary, exciting and…" She shrugged. "I don't know; it's lots of different things." She offered him a relaxed smile while her hand found its now customary place over the swell of her stomach. "You know, I never knew how much I wanted this and I probably still wouldn't know if it hadn't been for Gil bringing Ben into my life the way that he did." She chuckled. "It's funny, isn't it? There's a woman out there that I've never met and, if I'm honest, I hope I never do but she is ultimately responsible for both of my children – the first one because she chose to abandon him the way that she did and the second because if she hadn't done that, I am absolutely positive that I would never have even considered having a baby myself."

"You know, it says a lot about the person you've become that there's no jealousy or hatred there," Greg commented quietly. "I know you and Grissom worked through that whole Melissa thing but I can't help but think that if I were in your position I'd spend half my life wanting the woman dead."

"What would be the point?" Sara asked simply. "I have a husband I adore, a two year-old I can't even begin to imagine life without and we have a sibling for him on the way; I have the house of my dreams, a job that, even after all this time, I still enjoy doing and I'm surrounded by people who love and support me in ways that I didn't even know was possible." She reached for her water and took a sip before continuing. "So why on earth would I be jealous of, or hate, a woman who chooses to have nothing? She walked away from her marriage, her daughters and a newborn child she didn't even bother to look at. The only thing she has that she can truly call her own now is her alcohol addiction; I certainly can't be jealous of that and nor can I hate her." She shook her head as though to emphasis the point and shrugged. "In fact, the only emotion I have towards Melissa now is pity; she once had what I've got and she voluntarily threw it all away for the sake of a bottle."

"Now I'm jealous of _you_ ," Greg quipped with a half-smile that didn't quite manage to mask the longing tone of his words. "It sounds like you have everything."

"You know the more that I think about it, the more convinced I am that I do." Unable to help herself, Sara grinned contentedly across the table at him. "I love my life at the moment, Greg - backache, swollen feet and heartburn like you wouldn't believe notwithstanding - there's not a single thing that I'd change about it right now."

"Like I said, I'm jealous." He purposefully kept his expression neutral but Sara quickly picked up on the almost melancholic tone. "I'd give my right arm for even half of what you've got."

"No one on the horizon?" Sara queried, realizing for the first time just how out of touch she'd become with her friend's personal life. "I thought for a while there that you and Morgan-"

"Oh that was never going to work." Greg vehemently shook his head. "Thanks to you and Grissom, I saw first hand how difficult it can be to build and maintain a relationship with someone you work with and when you add to that the awkwardness of dating the sheriff's daughter _plus_ the very real possibility that one day I might have ended up with David Hodges as a stepbrother-in-law…" Eyes widening in mock horror, he sucked in a sharp breath. "No, I think Morgan and I will be much better off just staying friends."

"Well, I wouldn't give up on the prospect of finding your perfect match just yet you know." Sara took another sip from her glass. "I mean, if Jim Brass is willing to give marriage another try then I think there's hope for everyone."

"Yeah, I heard about that," Greg chuckled. "After listening to him go on and on about his marriage to Ellie's mother and how bad it was, I'm surprised he's taking the plunge again."

"Well, it's not much of a plunge really; they've been together for two years, sharing a house for over half that time and Helen's grandkids have been calling him Grandpa Jim for months now so I think the ceremony will be more of a formalization than anything else."

They both fell silent as the waitress arrived with their meals - a fluffy, golden omelette and two slices of toast for Sara and a short-stack of pancakes coupled with eggs, hash browns and a mound of bacon for Greg. Sara watched, partly amused and partly dismayed, as he reached across for the maple syrup and liberally coated the entire contents of his plate before picking up his knife and fork and getting stuck in.

"Just sitting at the same table as that thing is giving me indigestion." She shook her head in amazement as she watched him ladle another forkful into his mouth. "You know, if you keep eating like that, there's going to be a whole lot more of you for the future Mrs. Sanders to love."

"Just have to make sure she's not the type to get hung up on appearances then, won't I." Picking up a rasher of bacon he took a large bite out of one end as he looked across the table at Sara. "Catherine said that you're changing your hours."

"Yep, thanks to her insistence that I get more rest I'm off from…" Sara checked her watch. "… now until Tuesday night and, thanks to the department's insistence that I use up as much of my accrued leave as possible before my maternity leave kicks in, it's been decided that I'll cut my working week down to four days starting from next week."

"Well that sounds kind of sensible," Greg nodded his agreement. "Although, with Ben running around the place, I'm not sure how much rest you'll actually manage to get."

"Ah, but that's what daycare is for." Using the edge of her fork, Sara sliced a corner from her omelette. "I plan to schedule at least some of my time off to coincide with days like today when Gil's out in the field and Ben's in daycare; that way I'll actually get to sleep in, have the house to myself for a while and get a little 'me' time in before they arrive home again." Popping the egg in her mouth, she chewed and swallowed before continuing. "The rest of the time shouldn't be too much of a hassle; I'm more than used to sharing my life with a mini tornado."

Greg smiled at the description of the sometimes overly-active toddler. "Are you ready for two of them though?"

"Nope," Sara admitted with a grin. "But, thankfully, it'll be a while before they're both on their feet and barreling around us." Her phone chimed and, pulling it from her pocket, Sara read the new text. "Just a reminder that Grissom's prescription is ready for pickup." She pushed the phone onto the table. "I'd better get that on the way home; he's working somewhere north of Vegas Bay today and, odds are, he'll forget to stop by on the way back."

Greg put his cutlery down. "I'm going to miss you."

"What?" She feigned confusion. "When I go to the Walgreens?"

"No smartass, I mean at work," Greg clarified. "First shorter hours and then six months leave." He shrugged a little self-consciously. "It won't be the same."

"Well, I'm cleared to work in the field until my twenty-eighth week and, after that, I'm going to be stuck in the lab reviewing old cases so you'll be seeing me around the place for a good while yet." Sara smiled. "And, no doubt, I'll be bringing the baby in so everyone can meet him or her but we only live twenty minutes away from you, remember and you're always more than welcome to drop by, you know that." She laughed. "After all, I can't think of anything better than hearing about the latest grisly murders and all the lab gossip to save me from the abyss of dirty diapers and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse that I'm sure I'm going to find myself faced with."

Picking up her fork again, she cut another chunk from her omelette as she cocked her head in the direction of Greg's plate.

"Now, hurry up and finish that, okay; like I said, Gil and Ben are both out which means I'm going home to an empty house and, if there's one thing I intend doing, it's making the most of the peace and quiet while I can."

* * *

Climbing into the Prius in the parking lot of the Eastern Avenue Walgreens, Sara placed the white paper sack containing Grissom's newly-filled prescription along with a fresh box of her prenatal vitamins on the passenger seat with one hand while she fumbled the key into the ignition with the other.

She turned it over, a little saddened at the thought that she was doing so for, what would invariably be, one of the last times; with a trip to the dealership lined up for the weekend and Grissom's determination that both vehicles be replaced as soon as possible, her time with the aging Toyota was fast running out. She yawned then stretched as much as her seatbelt would allow before putting the car in gear and carefully pulling out of her parking space to, once again, join the steady flow of traffic heading south.

A little over a mile and a half along the road, she eased the car right onto Anthem Parkway and then onto Anthem Club Drive, the weariness that she been feeling lifting a little the closer and closer she got to home.

It was as she was slowing to make a right onto Woodland Drive that she first caught sight of movement behind her and, quickly shifting her attention to her rearview mirror she watched, transfixed, as the unmistakable shape of Zephyr Dillinger rose into view from the backseat.

His cold eyes locked instantly on the reflection of hers and the corners of his mouth curled up into a humorless smile.

"Hello Sara."

 **A/N:** As always, thanks go to SylvieT for the beta.


	10. Chapter 10

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 10 ~**

Easing the Murano to a stop in the garage, Grissom shoved the transmission into park, pulled his keys from the ignition and, following Jim's advice to the letter, sat patiently waiting as the large metal door slid back into place behind him.

The first thing he'd noticed as he'd turned into Ridgehaven Court had been the dumpster's disappearance from the driveway, a sign that not only would they now have full access to their previously blocked garage but also that the renovation work that had been going on both inside and out of their new home was nearing its long awaited completion. The security system had been slated for installation next Monday and that, coupled with contractor's assurance that the fencing and planting would be completed before the scheduled water delivery for the pool on the Tuesday meant that, in less than a week, they'd truly get to call the house their own.

"Mommy?"

The hopeful voice from the backseat pulled Grissom's attention back to the vehicle and, locking eyes with his small son in the rearview mirror, he smiled brightly.

"Just a minute, bud, okay?" Shucking off his seatbelt, he pushed open the driver's door and swung his legs out of the Nissan. "I'll get you out in a moment."

He stretched his legs out as much as the open door would allow, flexing first one and then the other as he tried to ease the bone-deep ache that had been plaguing him since lunchtime; as much as he loved working in the field, there were times, like today, when it clearly didn't like him and, as usual, it was his knees that were letting him know it. With one hand on top of the open door and the other braced against the side of the car, he pushed himself up and then limped his way around the vehicle to the rear passenger door and his waiting son.

"There you go." With practiced hands he freed Ben from his child seat and lowered him down to the ground before reaching in to grab the toddler's blue and white striped bag as well as his own backpack before pushing the door closed with his hip and looking around to see exactly where it was the little boy had gone.

The sound of quiet giggles drew his attention to the far side of the triple garage and, making his way across, he narrowed his eyes in mock anger as he approached the collection of furniture and belongings that had yet to find their way into the house itself. "What are you up to, Trouble?"

Standing on the belt of Sara's large electric treadmill, Ben laughed in delight as he reached up with both hands and began pressing his fingers over the array of control buttons.

"It's got to be plugged in for that to work, you know, and after eight hours running around at daycare, I really doubt you need the exercise," Grissom told him with a grin as he grasped one of the wandering hands and gently swung the boy off the machine and back onto the concrete floor. "Now, come on, let's go find Mommy."

Pushing open the access door on the garage's rear wall, he stepped into the mud room and then let Ben run ahead, watching as the toddler made a beeline for the kitchen; the house was quiet and still but the faint aroma of cooking wafting about the place told him that the little boy was probably heading in the right direction.

Leaving him to it, Grissom made his way first through the foyer and then along the main hallway to his office where he left his backpack before dropping Ben's bag off in his bedroom for later sorting. It was as he stepped back out that he heard the sound of running feet as they quickly approached from the other end of the long house.

"No Mommy." Coming to a halt in front of his father, Ben shook his head as if to emphasize his point.

"Did you look everywhere?" Ignoring the pain in his knees, Grissom automatically dropped into a squat to match his son's height. "We know she's here because we saw her car in the garage, remember?"

He bit back an amused smile as Ben nodded his solemn agreement. Hide and Seek was Sara and Ben's 'thing' whenever he returned from daycare and, while she always confined her hidey-holes to either the kitchen or living room to make finding her easier for the little boy, he was clearly having trouble with this one.

"So she can't be too far away, right?" Ruffling the toddler's wavy hair, he winked conspiratorially. "How about you go back and look around again and if you still haven't found her by the time I'm done here, we'll search for her together, okay?"

"Me go!" Enthusiasm renewed, Ben's face lit up with determination as he spun on his heel and took off back down the hallway again and Grissom pushed himself up with a smile as he kept a close eye on the still somewhat unsteady gait of his two-year-old son.

He'd never really imagined himself with a child and even the knowledge that both the Grissom name and line would invariably die with him hadn't warmed him to the prospect of fatherhood; in fact, he remembered, even now, the relief he'd felt when, on the one and only occasion that the subject had arisen, Sara had assured him that she felt exactly the same way. Now though, after having been thrust into the role the way that he had been, he couldn't begin to fathom a life without his son in it and the knowledge that, in just a few short months, Ben's little brother or sister would be joining them filled him with a mixture of excitement and happiness that he'd never even known was possible.

A high pitched squeal of what he took to be victory sounded from the vicinity of the kitchen and, guessing Ben had finally located his quarry, Grissom turned to his left and continued on to the master bedroom. Rounding the king-sized bed and pausing only long enough in the doorway of the walk-in closet to toe off his hiking boots, he headed straight for the en suite bathroom and the large mirror-fronted cabinet situated above the double vanity.

Pulling it open, he stared for a moment at the full vial of Caduet that sat at eye level on the glass shelve before him, remembering instantly the message he'd briefly glanced at – and promptly forgotten – from the pharmacy that morning and made a mental note to thank Sara for picking it up; although they both got the automatic texts when his refills were ready, it was almost always her that made a point of stopping by and collecting them for him.

Sliding the small bottle to one side, he reached for the box of Motrin at the back and, popping two of the caplets out into the palm of his hand, quickly swallowed them down with a mouthful of cold water from the tap before making his way back out of the bedroom and heading down to the kitchen in search of his wife and child.

The kitchen was empty but he could hear the soft sound of voices coming from the living room and, after a brief stop at the refrigerator for a bottle of ice-cold water, he made his way around the large granite countertop and across the dark hardwood floor to the large fabric sofa.

"I see you found Mommy."

Straddling his mother's lap, Ben grinned happily around the chocolate chip cookie he was so clearly enjoying and Grissom returned the smile with one of his own as he ran his finger lightly across the back of his wife's neck and along her shoulder as he passed by. Rounding the end of the sectional, he dropped down onto the cushion next to hers before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "So, where were you hiding?"

"In the pantry." The corners of Sara's mouth quirked up in amusement as she watched him settle back and open the bottle of water. "I'd just gone in there to put some things away when I heard you pull into the garage so I figured it was as good a place as any." She stroked a hand over her son's hair as he munched the final remnants of his cookie. "He ran right by me four times before he noticed the door was ajar and came to investigate."

Finished with his treat, Ben pushed backwards in an effort to get down and, almost reluctantly, Sara let him slip off her lap and onto the floor before watching his every move as he headed over to his toy box.

Eyeing her closely, Grissom frowned. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Of course." Turning her attention back to her husband, Sara offered him a reassuring smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," Grissom admitted. "You just look…" One shoulder rose in a slight shrug. "… worried I guess."

"There's nothing I'm worried about." Sara gave her head a quick shake. "Well, not really." She sighed and then smiled. "You know the feeling you get when you know you've forgotten something but can't put your finger on what it is? I've had that feeling ever since I got up," she frowned. "No, a little before that actually; I think it first kicked in when I was almost asleep."

"When that's happened to me, I've found the best way to deal with it is to simply stop trying to remember." Reaching out, he ran his finger lightly back and forth across her thigh. "The mind's a funny thing and you can drive yourself nuts trying to bring whatever you've forgotten back to the surface but the odds are you won't be able to..." He smiled and winked. "Well, not before two in the morning anyway."

"I just can't shake the feeling that it's something important though." Raising her hand to her face, Sara rubbed her fingertips over her temple. "Something that I _need_ to tell you, I just…" She shook her head in frustration. "I just can't get it."

"Like I said, if it's going to come to you, it'll happen at two a.m. but if it doesn't, I'm betting that it's nowhere near as important as you think it is." Tipping his head, he studied her closely. "Did you get any sleep today?"

"A little," she conceded with a small smile. "Not as much as I'd hoped for but considering I had to contend with a couple of workmen who talk more than most women I know, putting in the posts for the pool fence plus the truck turning up to haul away the dumpster, I'm probably lucky to have got any at all." She held up a restraining hand when she saw him about to speak. "But that just means that I'll sleep even better tonight so maybe it's not such a bad thing after all." Deciding a change of subject was in order, she nodded in Ben's direction. "How was his day?"

"Good by all accounts," Grissom nodded approvingly. "No tears, no tantrums, he played well with the other kids and was helping to put away the toys when I got there so Michelle was really pleased with him." He sucked in a breath. "She does want us to keep an eye on him though; the little Fletcher girl, Paige I think it is, had to be picked up early because she became ill and someone…" He cocked his head towards their son. "… spent part of the morning playing in the sandbox with her."

"Oh great, just what we need." Sara rolled her eyes in dismay.

"Yeah," he agreed. "It came on quite suddenly apparently and they were waiting to hear back from her mother for a diagnosis but it sounds like a virus to me; vomiting, diarrhea, fever." He shrugged helplessly. "You know the drill."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now." Sara heaved a sigh of resignation. "That's probably screwed up our plan for a trip to the car dealership on Saturday though."

"We might get lucky," Grissom reasoned. "I mean, just because he played with her doesn't automatically mean he's going to get sick." He brightened. "And, if we do get to go, I thought we could maybe stop by that baby store over on Valley View." Moving his hand from her leg to her stomach, he caressed the gentle swell. 'Now that everything else around here is done, I though it might be time to start focusing on this one; so far, the only things he or she has got are a stark white, undercoated bedroom and Ben's old crib."

"I guess it is time we did something about a nursery, isn't it?' Sara conceded with a small smile. "Okay, we can at least have a look around and see what it is we're going to need." She elbowed him lightly in the side. "Of course, if you hadn't given all of Ben's baby things away we could have saved ourselves a small fortune."

"Hey, I had no idea I'd be going through this again, remember?" Grissom reminded her. "As far as I was concerned, Ben was a one-off so, the minute he grew out of something I found it a good home." He shrugged. "But, to tell you the truth, I'm glad that I did; this is _our_ baby, honey, yours and mine, and it deserves to have both of its parents making decisions on what to buy, when to buy it and even what colors to paint the nursery."

She smiled, knowing all too well how important it was to him to share as many aspects of this pregnancy with her as possible. Having found out about Ben's impending arrival just a few weeks before his birth, he'd missed out on most of the things that expectant fathers got to experience and she'd promised herself, almost as soon as she knew that their child was on the way, that she'd do everything in her power to make up for that now.

"Well then, if we do get to go out, we could stop by Home Depot on our way back and pick up a couple of paint charts." Putting her hand over the top of his, she pressed it firmly against her belly, her smile widening as the additional pressure was answered by a tiny kick. "Then we'll see if we can agree on a color."

"You're on." Glancing at his watch, Grissom reluctantly pulled his hand away before cocking his thumb in the direction of the toy box. "You want bath duty or dinner duty?"

"I've already made dinner," Sara informed him with a self-satisfied grin. "I whipped up a zucchini slice plus a small salad to go with it and, if someone's a good boy and eats it all up, I might just be able to rustle up some ice cream for dessert."

"You hear that, Ben? Ice cream." He laughed as his son's head shot up at the words. "But, bath time first so put your train away for now and we'll go and grab your pajamas."

"Oh, before I forget," Sara called out as he headed towards the hallway. "Jim called this afternoon; apparently he tried getting you on your cell phone but it just kept ringing out."

"That doesn't surprise me; reception where I was today is usually hit and miss." He bent as Ben ran to him and lifted the toddler up, settling him securely in the crook of his arm. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"All he'd tell me was that he had some paperwork for you to sign." She narrowed her eyes semi-suspiciously as she watched him. "I tried pressing him for more but he was being kind of cagey."

"Jim and his secrets, huh?" Having decided to present his imminent firearms purchase as a fait accompli, Grissom opted to downplay his friend's comment. "It's okay, I know what it's about and it's nothing, really." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll give him a call after dinner."

"There's no need, I've invited him and Helen over for lunch tomorrow so he said he'd bring it with him then." She cocked her chin in Ben's direction. "Although that'll all depend on how someone feels in the morning, I guess."

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Pushing the little boy's hair back off his forehead, he felt for any sign of a temperature and smiled when he felt none. "Perfectly normal and it's going to stay that way too, isn't it, bud, after all, we've got a busy couple of days ahead of us; Jim and Helen tomorrow and then shopping for new cars _and_ your baby brother or sister on Saturday." Turning towards the back of the house, he used his free hand to tickle Ben's tummy. "There's no way we're going to let some silly virus keep us away from all of that."

Sara watched them go, listening as her husband's voice became fainter the further along the hallway they went and hoped that what he said was true; she'd been determined to make sure that this time off of hers was as relaxing as possible – car and nursery shopping notwithstanding – but the thought of Ben being ill was something that she simply couldn't countenance at the moment, not when she had so much else on her mind.

Her inability to remember whatever it was that she'd been struggling to was disconcerting enough but the thing that was truly occupying her thoughts – and the thing that she was almost unreasonably afraid to admit to her husband - was the fact that she had absolutely no memory of her journey home from the moment she'd exited the pharmacy's parking lot until she'd found herself sitting in her idling Toyota parked in the driveway outside.

 **A/N:** Thanks, as always, goes to SylvieT for the beta of this chapter... oh, and you got your way, my friend, there really wasn't anywhere else to put it. ;)


	11. Chapter 11

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 11 ~**

"Well, that certainly looks better than the last time I saw it!" Tightening his hold on the little boy perched on his shoulders, Jim looked down at the freshly-scrubbed pool tiles and slowly nodded. "I have to say though, if it had been me, I probably would have filled it in."

"Oh, I was leaning that way, believe me," Grissom told him, his lips curling up in wry amusement as his son started beating out a rhythm on his friend's closely-cropped head. "But, as soon as they emptied it out and got it clean you could see it was actually in pretty good condition, plus the structural report says it's sound, so I kind of ran out of excuses." He shrugged. "There's also the fact that, one day in the future, Ben and his younger brother or sister would find out that their old man buried their swimming pool and I would, undoubtedly, be disowned on the spot."

"Well, yeah, there is that, I suppose," Jim grudgingly conceded as he turned to look at the rest of the yard. "It's all coming together, isn't it?"

"Yep, by the end of the week, we might actually have a backyard." Squinting slightly in the bright sunlight, Grissom idly massaged a spot above his left eye. "Once the pool and the fence are finished there are just a couple of garden beds to be planted up and Ben's play set to build." He chuckled. "The plan had been to put the thing together myself but the contractor offered to do it for me and, since he actually knows what he's doing and will, no doubt, be finished in a fraction of the time I would, I decided to take him up on his offer."

"Smart man." Jim smiled. "I guess the City pays a hell of lot better now than it used to, huh?"

"The City doesn't, no, but the settlement money from the accident we had in Flagstaff did." Grissom cocked his head in the direction of the house. "This was paid for using what we got from the sale of both Mom's place and the Waltson Avenue house and the settlement money has helped pay for some of the renovation work we've done." One shoulder rose in a casual shrug. "Some of it will also go towards the new cars and anything that's left after that will be going straight into a couple of college funds."

"You've done your homework?" Brass asked as he winced in discomfort as a particularly hard slap found its mark. "Ben, buddy, that's starting to hurt!"

The complaint was met with a joy-filled laugh from his small assailant and Grissom tried unsuccessfully to hide the smile his friend's discomfort caused.

"According to the internet…" Grissom schooled his features into a more neutral expression as Jim shifted his attention back to him. "The most popular vehicle on the road in Vegas today is the Ford Explorer and the most popular color is white so that's what I'm leaning towards." He shrugged. "I think Sara was hoping for something a little smaller but the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of having two vehicles that are essentially interchangeable, especially if we can get them with the darkest window tint that is legally possible."

"So if someone tries to follow you, it'll be harder to tell exactly who it is that's driving." Jim grinned. "Like I said earlier, smart man."

"I have my moments. So…" Glancing quickly in the direction of the sliding glass doors the house, Grissom tried to make sure no one was watching them before turning back. "You've got the paperwork for my carry permit?"

"Right here in my pocket." Deciding his scalp had had more than enough punishment, Jim reached up and swung Ben off his shoulders and then twisted the little boy upside down much to the toddler's delight. "Conrad already had it filled in using the information on file so all you have to do is sign it and I'll drop it back to him on my way home." He spun Ben upright again and lowered him to the ground, holding him securely to ensure he had his feet before letting go and chuckling as the child took off at a run towards the other side of the yard. "He said he'd fast-track the permit so it should be good to go by the middle of the week."

"That's great; thanks." Grissom shaded his eyes with one hand as he kept a close eye on his son.

"I thought we could take a trip to the gun store on either Wednesday or Thursday and then maybe get in a little practice at the range on the way home." He shrugged. "It has been a while, after all."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Gesturing in the direction of the back door to the garage and the little boy now trying his best to get it open, Grissom checked his watch. "Lunch won't be far off so how about I sign that paperwork now." Removing his son's fingers from the handle, he opened the door and let the toddler run ahead of them. "There's bound to be a pen in the car I can use and I'd really like to get out of this glare."

"Hangover?" Jim joked, knowing full well just how far away from the bottle his friend stayed these days.

"Just a headache." Ignoring the attempt at humor, Grissom held the door wide to allow Jim entry into the large cool space. "It came on about an hour ago; I really should have brought my sunglasses out with me."

"Probably caused by the guilt of keeping secrets from your wife," Jim quipped as he stopped just short of the doorway.

"One secret," Grissom clarified. "And I won't be keeping it for long; I'd never bring a firearm into this house without discussing it with Sara so, as soon as Conrad sorts out that permit-"

He stopped mid-sentence as a loud crash sounded from inside followed by a familiar mischievous giggle and Grissom quickly gestured his friend ahead of him.

"We better get in there now before he either breaks something or we have to pull him out from under whatever it is he's exploring." He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation as an amused Brass finally stepped through the door. "Then, while I'm signing that paperwork, maybe you could remind me why I ever thought having two of him was such a good idea."

* * *

"But Ben's okay?" Looking out through the large windows to the backyard, Helen Gallagher watched as her husband-to-be swung the little boy off his shoulders and dangled him upside down for a moment before setting him feet first on the ground.

"He's absolutely fine." Concentrating on freeing her creation from its baking dish, Sara didn't look up. "He woke up this morning raring to go and hasn't stopped since."

"Just keep an eye on him, okay?" Helen suggested. "Some of these things can incubate for a day or two before making their presence known." Turning away from the window, she sniffed the air and smiled. "That smells wonderful."

"Spinach, mushroom and feta pie," Sara told her proudly as she eased the parchment paper away from the sides. "I think it's more of a crustless quiche than anything but the recipe calls it a pie so I'm not going to argue." She screwed up the paper in her hand and tossed it in the trash. "I've got a Greek salad in the fridge and I had Gil pick up a loaf of crusty bread from our local bakery this morning so we'll just give this ten minutes or so to rest before I slice it and then we can eat."

"Well, if it tastes even half as good as it looks I can't wait." Pulling one of the tall stools away from the countertop, Helen took a seat and ran her hand across the grey and white flecked granite surface. "Have I told you how much I love this kitchen?"

"A couple of times." Leaning forward, Sara chuckled as she pulled open the dishwasher door and placed her used pan and utensils inside. "But that's not surprising since you're one of the few who saw the place before we ripped the old one out." She looked up and chuckled. "It kind of makes you wonder about the previous owners, doesn't it? The bright yellow walls were bad enough but the black cabinetry and matching countertops they had going in here was almost scary." She pushed the dishwasher door closed before standing upright and idly rubbing her lower back. "You're still determined to renovate Jim's, aren't you?"

"Well, considering he hasn't done a thing to the place since he bought it, I think it's about time." Helen looked around again, taking in the soft silver-grey wall color and sleek white cabinetry. "I'd like something like this, I think; clean and light looking; it'll be a nice change away from all those dark tones we're living with now."

"I could drop a couple of none too subtle hints if you like," Sara offered as she pulled open the refrigerator door and extracted a large salad bowl. "Make sure he knows just how grateful his new bride would be if she, say, got the renovation go ahead as a wedding gift."

"Oh, he's already agreed to get it done and if I called a contractor tomorrow he probably wouldn't even bat an eyelid but…" Helen sighed. "I guess I'm not going to be entirely comfortable doing something big like that until after we're properly married."

"Jim's not your ex-husband, remember." Moving across to the dining table, Sara placed the bowl in the very center. "He wouldn't leave you high and dry like that moron did."

"Oh, I know, believe me," Helen nodded emphatically. "The odds of him draining our savings account and leaving me with two kids and a mountain of debt after I find him in bed with the seventeen year-old babysitter are absolutely nonexistent but…," she shrugged and offered Sara a rueful smile. "I have trust issues and Jim knows it; we're working through them _and_ making progress but it takes time." She smiled happily. "He still asked me to marry him though so we can't be doing too badly."

"Have you decided where you're having the ceremony?'

"Well, we've both done the big wedding thing and neither of us feels the need to repeat it so we've opted for the backyard." Twisting her stool fully around to face the table, Helen smiled. "We've been working on that garden together for months now so it seems only right that we take our vows there." She took a deep breath. "You don't think we're rushing things, do you?" She attempted to nonchalantly push an errant strand of ash-blonde hair back off her face but couldn't quite carry it off. "It's just a couple of people have commented on it, that's all."

Stopping in her task, Sara straightened up and stared at the woman before her. With her hair lying loosely around her shoulders and the scrubs and cross trainers she usually wore for work replaced by a light floral blouse and tailored cream slacks, Helen looked absolutely nothing like the ER nurse who, Sara had heard, could wither even the most senior of doctors with a steely glare. She was a remarkably young looking fifty-eight and, away from the stress and tension of work, had a quirky sense of humor that, in Sara's opinion, was probably the thing that had truly attracted Jim to her in the first place.

Sara had been a little wary of her at first, unsure whether or not, she was good enough for her much loved friend but Helen's absolute honesty about her own circumstances and her unwavering support for Jim in his seemingly unending attempts to fully reconcile with his daughter had won Sara around in the end. She now considered the woman one of her most trusted of friends; albeit one who was clearly in the midst of a case of pre-nuptial jitters.

"Really?" Striving to reassure her, Sara almost scoffed at the comments. "We live in a city where most weddings seem to be a spur of the moment thing so, by Vegas standards, a month is almost a lifetime." She shrugged dismissively. "You love Jim and he loves you and whether you want to get married a month from now or a year from now, it's nobody's business but yours." Placing her hand over her belly she grinned. "Besides, if you leave it too much longer I'm going to be the size of a house and, trust me, I do not want to have to go trudging around town trying to find an outfit that doesn't make me look like I'm wearing a circus tent."

As if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, Helen released the breath she'd been holding and smiled. "How's everything going with the baby?"

"Good, really good." Smoothing out the tablecloth, Sara hesitated for only a second before pressing on. "Can I ask you a question?" She took a deep breath, "As a nurse and as a mother."

"Of course," Helen frowned. "You can ask me anything."

"Baby brain is real, right?" Sara tried her best to make her query sound casual. 'I mean forgetting things, getting confused about stuff, that kind of thing." She shrugged. "It's normal, right?"

"It most certainly is," Helen confirmed with a laugh. "I didn't have a problem with it when I was pregnant with Trent but I spent three or four months while I was carrying Kaylee searching for my car keys and getting reminder phone calls about appointments that I swear I never made." She grinned at Sara. "So, what are you missing?"

"Time," Sara told her honestly. "I lost some yesterday." She shrugged almost dismissively. "Not a lot of it, about a half hour or so but, for the life of me, I have no idea what happened during those thirty minutes."

"You lost a block of time?" Leaning forward in her seat, Helen frowned as her mind whirred with possibilities. "Did you tell Gil about this?"

"No, and to be honest, I'm a little afraid to." Pulling out the nearest chair, Sara sat down. "I mean, I'm sure nothing…" She struggled for an apt word. "… untoward happened during that time but coming so soon after-"

"After your abduction," Helen finished for her then took a deep breath in as she processed what she'd just been told. "I don't know, Sara; my training is telling me it's probably nothing more than a case of you being overworked and overtired." She shrugged. "I imagine you drove home on automatic pilot and then zoned out even more for a while the minute you pulled up. That kind of thing is neither safe nor ideal but it happens to all of us at one time or another." She shook her head. "But considering what happened to you a couple of months ago, I tend to think it's something that we can't just write off as a quirk of pregnancy." She locked eyes with Sara. "You have to tell Gil about this, Sara, there's no getting away from it; you have to tell him for your sake, for his sake _and_ for the safety of both Ben and the little one you're carrying."

The distinct sound of something hitting the ground emanated from one end of the house and, ignoring the fear that Helen's words had caused, Sara pushed to her feet. "That will be Ben in the garage, we've still got some furniture and boxes piled up in there and he seems to think it's an adventure playground." She pushed the chair in again and made her way back to the kitchen. "I better get that pie ready, they'll be in here looking for lunch any minute now."

"You can't ignore this, Sara," Helen cautioned once again. "Gil needs to know what's been going on."

"I know and he will." Rounding the countertop, Sara pulled the pie towards her and reached for a knife. "We're going out tomorrow morning but as soon as we get back, I'll make a point of filling him in." She looked up again with what she hoped was a confident smile. "I promise, Helen, before this weekend's out, he'll know all about it."

* * *

Parked in the rear of the Sonic Drive-In on Warm Springs Road, Sara twisted around in the Murano's driver's seat to address her grumpy son strapped in the back.

"Come on, Ben." Reaching back, she lightly rubbed the little boy's leg. "Daddy will be back in a minute and he's bringing something nice for you." She brightened her voice as much as she could in an effort to elicit a little excitement from the toddler. "You like the burgers here, don't you? I bet that's what he's getting."

"No!" With a determined shake of his head, Ben forcibly pulled his leg away from her and Sara rolled her eyes skyward as she reached for the door handle.

It had been a long morning but, all in all, a very satisfying and successful one however that, Sara thought as she climbed out of the front seat of the car and into the back, looked very much as if it might be about to come to a premature end.

The manager of the local Ford dealership had all but fallen over himself to get their business when he found out they were in the market for two new SUVs and had, within the space of an hour, agreed to a more than generous trade-in deal on both the Murano and Prius and arranged for a pair of identical white Explorers to be ready to go by the end of the week.

With both cars appraised, they'd quickly doubled back to drop the Toyota off at the house and then headed out to Home Depot where, much to the exasperation of both of her male companions, Sara had spent over forty minutes narrowing down nursery paint colors to a final three possibilities; all of which were now nestled in a carrier bag in the form of sample cans to be auditioned in the room itself.

Throughout the morning, Ben's mood had steadily deteriorated, going from excited and alert at the car yard to bored and downright bad tempered in the paint department and, with their fingers crossed that hunger and boredom were the culprits and not something more sinister, a stop at the nearest fast food outlet had been decided upon.

It was a rare treat that usually thrilled the little boy but, given the stubborn set of his jaw and miserable expression on his face, it clearly wasn't working this time.

"What's the matter, baby?" Slipping her hand over his forehead, Sara felt for signs of a fever. "Do you feel sick?"

Ben shook his head again although not quite as vehemently as before and, as Sara watched, his eyes welled up with tears.

"Oh, sweetheart." Using her fingers to wipe away the couple that fell, Sara leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his tousled head. "Daddy won't be much longer and, as soon as he gets here, I think we'll go home, okay? When we get there you can take a nap and I'm sure you'll feel much better when you wake up."

Reaching past him, she grabbed his yellow duck and placed it on his lap looking on with a slight smile as he wrapped his arms tightly around the stuffed bird and cuddled it to him. A present from Jim Brass on the day of his birth, the plush had always been the little boy's go-to toy for comfort and security and, easing herself back out of the vehicle, Sara heaved a sigh of relief that it seemed to be working its magic now.

"He's no happier?"

Starting slightly at the unexpected question, Sara pushed the car door shut then turned to find her husband standing behind her, a plastic Sonic bag in one hand and his sunglasses in the other.

"No, not really." She shrugged. "We're going to have to take him home; I think he's just overtired but the knowledge that he's been exposed to a virus keeps popping into my head."

"Yeah, that's been on my mind too," Grissom admitted as slipped the sunglasses into place. "They go downhill so quickly at that age, I don't think we can risk dragging him around another store." Raising his free hand he massaged the spot above his left eye. "And, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I could face it just now either."

Watching him, Sara frowned. "Still got that headache?"

"Yeah." He began to nod but quickly curtailed the movement as the pain ramped up. "I was sure it was gone when I woke up this morning but now it's back with a vengeance."

"I don't have to worry about you too, do I?" Reaching out, she placed her hand across his brow as she had done with their son moments earlier.

"No, not at all; I'm sure I'll be fine." Her tone had been light but the concern in his wife's eyes was clearly evident and Grissom smiled to reassure her. "I've always been prone to stress induced headaches and migraines, you know that," he shrugged dismissively. "And with everything we've had going on around us lately, it's probably not all that surprising that it's catching up with me now."

"Are you sure?" Still a little skeptical, Sara eyed him carefully.

"I'm positive." Moving the Sonic bag from one hand to the other, Grissom rounded the front of the Nissan and headed for the passenger side. "A couple of painkillers and an hour or so in a quiet room and I'll probably be good as new."

"Then that's what you'll have." Lowering herself back into the driver's seat, Sara twisted the key in the ignition and looked back at her now dozing son in the rearview mirror. "The two of you can get some sleep while I try out the paint samples in the baby's room." She shrugged lightly. "It'll probably be easier shopping for him or her if we've decided on the color scheme first anyway."

Shifting the transmission into drive, Sara eased the Murano out of the parking lot and then turned south onto Arroyo Grande Boulevard for the twenty minute drive home.

They were less than five minutes into the journey when the vomiting began.

 **A/N:** My apologies for the delay with this chapter, things have been a little hectic around here lately and it's not always easy to find the time to get this done. Thanks, as always, goes to SylvieT for the beta. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 12 ~**

Stepping clear of the slow moving Murano, Sara watched as Greg pulled the vehicle to a halt and opened all four windows before shutting off the engine, throwing open the driver's door and climbing out with a satisfied smile.

"There you go, good as new!" He cocked his head slightly as his smile widened into a grin. "Well, it will be as soon as everything dries out properly."

"Thanks for that, you're a life saver." Sara stepped in to inspect the freshly-cleaned vehicle as the heavy garage door slid to a close behind them. "I tried everything I could think of to get rid of the smell and it just wasn't budging."

"No problem," Greg assured her. "What's the point of having a friend with a car detailing business if you can't call in a marker every now and then?" Rounding the Nissan, he pulled open first the front and then the rear passenger side doors. "Apparently the reason people have trouble killing the smell when someone throws up in a vehicle is that stomach contents tend to seep between the base of the car seat and the backrest and the only way to deal with it properly is to rip the seats out and make sure that every single inch of them is cleaned before you put them back again." He pointed towards the foot wells. "He steam cleaned the carpeting as well although he did say you'd managed to do a pretty good job."

"I might have been able to do an even better one if it wasn't such tight quarters," Sara patted her protruding belly. "I don't fit into small spaces quite as easily as I used to."

"No," Greg chuckled. "I don't suppose you do." He nodded towards the access door Sara had left slightly ajar. "How's it going?"

"Better." She crossed her fingers. "At least, I hope it is; I managed to get a piece of toast and some milk into Ben and he's now taking a nap while Grissom has been asleep for almost three hours which is the longest he's gone without throwing up since lunchtime yesterday."

"It's strange that he copped the worst of it; especially since he wasn't even near the kid who started it."

"Yeah," Sara concurred. "Compared to his father, Ben got off lightly; he was sick a couple of times yesterday afternoon and last night but I think the main thing for him now is catching up on all the sleep he lost whereas Grissom seems to have had the lot - headache, stomach ache, abdominal pain, sore throat, vomiting." She shrugged. "You name it, and he's experienced it."

"Well, if there's anything I can help you out with, you just have to ask." Greg thought for a moment. "I could do a pharmacy run for you if you like, there's bound to be something-"

"No need," Sara assured him. "I called Helen early this morning for advice and she told me that keeping fluids up is the most important thing I can do at the moment. I did ask her about trying an anti-emetic for Gil but she advised against it unless the vomiting lasts longer than twenty-four hours so I think it's just a case of better out than in but, like I said, he hasn't thrown up for a couple of hours now and the last time Ben did was around eleven o'clock last night so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that we're through the worst of it."

Studying her carefully, Greg frowned. "And you're okay?"

"Yep, I feel absolutely fine," she smiled reassuringly. "Eating and drinking perfectly normally and, while I could, no doubt, do with a little more sleep than I managed to get last night, I actually feel pretty energetic."

"Maybe the baby's boosting your immunity."

"I don't think so," Sara shook her head. "From what I've read, the mother's immune system is actually lowered slightly during pregnancy." She shrugged. "I guess I've just been lucky." She glanced at her watch. "Hey, would you be able to help me out with something else before you go?" She gestured over her shoulder towards the house. "It won't take long, I promise."

"Think it's safe?" Greg asked only half jokingly. "I'd hate to be the next one to come down with whatever the hell it is."

"It's a virus, Greg and I'm sure you'll be fine." Rolling her eyes, Sara turned towards the doorway. "Now, come on, I just want your thoughts on something, that's all."

Following her past the family room and kitchen, Greg was surprised at just how quiet the large house was; the few times he'd been there since they'd moved in, the place had been full of the noise of Ben playing or the contractor's men going about their various projects but now there was nothing but the sound of their footsteps as Sara led him from one end of the building to the other. She turned slightly and placed her finger over her lips in a shushing motion as they approached the closest of the open bedroom doors and, peeking in, Greg smiled at the sight of a tousle-haired Ben dressed in Spiderman pajamas sound asleep on the bed within.

"He looks like he's sleeping well," he whispered as they both cleared the doorway.

"He is, thankfully." Leading him into the next room, Sara moved to the very center and came to a stop. "If he can get another couple of hours of that, I think he'll feel a whole lot better when he wakes up."

Nodding slowly, Greg glanced around the near-empty room he was now standing in and then at the drop cloth, paint cans and brushes that all sat together against the far wall. "You bought me here to paint?"

"No, I bought you here to give me your opinion on the bits _I_ painted," Sara told him with a happy smile. "This, in case you haven't already guessed, is going to be the baby's room and I spent what little free time I had this morning experimenting with paint samples." She pointed to the three large rectangles of color that now graced the wall opposite the window. "So, now I'm looking for opinions."

"Okay." Surprised by the request, Greg moved closer to the wall and studied first the light cream tone then the pale beige and, finally, the soft sage green colors that she'd chosen. "Still being stubborn about finding out the baby's sex, I see." Looking back over his shoulder, he grinned. "You do know it makes it easier for people to buy gifts for the baby if they know whether they're shopping for a boy or a girl, right?"

"It would make it much easier for the parents too," Sara countered. "But, for now, we don't want to know; we both like the idea of it being a surprise." She cocked her chin at the wall. "So, which one do you like?"

"I don't know…" Staring back at the three colors, Greg gnawed at a thumbnail as he thought. "Do you have a theme in mind; you know, clowns, teddy bears, that sort of thing?"

I've seen a wall decal online that I'd love to have in here," she offered. "Two adult owls and three little owls sitting together in a tree." She thought for a moment. "It's a silhouette though so it'll go with any of those colors."

"Doesn't that mean you'll have to have another kid?" he teased.

"It's a decal, Greg, not a blueprint; just because I like something that has five owls in it doesn't mean I'm going to plan my family around it." She narrowed her eyes. "Now, pick a color."

"Can I try something first?" Both eyebrows rose in question.

That depends entirely upon what it is, Sara answered warily.

"It's okay, it won't hurt." Holding his open hand out, he nodded towards her abdomen. "May I?"

Taken aback, she stepped slightly away. "What are you going to do?"

"Trust me, Sara." Greg chuckled at her reticence. "I just want to try something, that's all."

Pressing his hand lightly against the swell of her stomach, he closed his eyes, an expression of deep concentration on his face and stood perfectly still. Sara watched him carefully, still unsure exactly what it was he was trying to achieve until, a handful of seconds later, both eyes blinked open and his mouth quirked up into a satisfied grin. "Why did you choose those paint colors?"

"The first two because they were about as neutral as I could get, I suppose and the green simply because I liked it." She shrugged. "If I don't use it in here, I think it'll go in the guest room; it's fresh and clean looking but it's also very serene and calming."

"Use it in here," he said with utter conviction as he nodded towards her belly. "My guess is she'll love it just like her mother does."

"You think it's a girl?"

"I'm no expert but yeah," Greg nodded. "The thing with the hand is something Nana Olaf showed me years ago; she said she could speak to an unborn baby with her mind and, as she spoke, she'd get a picture of the child forming in her head." He shrugged self-consciously. "I've never really tried it myself but I have some of her talents so I thought I'd give it a go and I could see her, Sara, I could see your baby."

"And what was Nana Olaf's success rate?" Unable to keep the scepticism from her voice, Sara narrowed her eyes as she watched her younger friend. "Fifty/fifty by any chance?"

"That's something I'm not entirely sure of," he confessed with a sheepish smile. "I was about fifteen at the time and the last thing on my mind was learning about my grandmother's prenatal talents but _I_ definitely saw a baby, Sara and it was, without a doubt, a little girl."

"No offence, Greg but I think it's going to take something a little more definitive to actually convince me that your right." She grinned. "Especially since I'm pretty sure it's a boy. Mind you, since Grissom keeps reminding me that I better not get too stuck on that idea in case it's wrong, I have the sneaking suspicion he'd probably be quite happy if you were right." She nodded. "I could see him with a daughter."

"And you?"

"I don't know; I just can't really picture myself having a little girl." She grinned and shook her head. "Can you imagine me at ballet classes?"

The sudden sound of a ring tone sounded in the room and Greg hurriedly fumbled his cell phone from his pocket.

"Wow," he commented dryly as he punched the flashing green handset symbol to silence the sound. "I had absolutely no idea that ballet was compulsory." He smirked as he raised the phone to his ear. "Sanders."

Silence fell as he listened to the caller and, watching him closely, Sara guessed that whatever it was he was hearing was something he'd really rather not. She could hear the faint drone of the caller's voice but couldn't make out what was being said although Greg's occasional curt nods underlined her assumption that it wasn't particularly welcome news.

"Okay…" Raising his free hand, Greg checked the time on his watch. "I can be there in about twenty minutes but, until I am, keep everyone away from the scene, alright? It's going to be easier to work out if it really is him if everything is left untouched. " He listened and nodded again as he ran his hand through his hair. "Okay, thanks; I'll see you then."

He jabbed his finger at the phone's keypad, exhaled noisily and then shoved the handset back into his pocket.

"It looks like our guy is back."

"Really," Sara winced at the news. "Damn, it's been so long since the last victim; I was hoping he'd moved on."

"You and me both." Greg sighed heavily. "A woman called 911 this morning to report her daughter missing; apparently she was meeting up with some friends at a bar last night, walked outside to get some fresh air around eleven thirty and hasn't been seen since. Her friends figured she'd gone home early and didn't particularly worry about it but her car was located half an hour ago still in the bar's parking lot with what looks like the contents of her purse scattered on the ground beside it and a check of PD's night logs shows another car was reported stolen from the same lot a little after midnight." He locked eyes with Sara. "Sound familiar?"

"Too familiar," she confirmed. "It looks like he's up to his old tricks." She gestured towards the bedroom door. "You'd better get going."

"Yeah, I'd better." Walking back down the hallway, he jiggled his car keys in his hand as he neared the front door. "Want me to call you with whatever I find?"

"Only if it turns out that we're wrong and it isn't him." Trailing after him, Sara silently hoped for everyone's sake that it wasn't. "If it is, we're not going to be able to do anything further until she shows up again and, going on past experience, that's not going to be for at least three days."

"So, if we're right, you're not going to be curious about what I find at the scene?"

"Not particularly," Sara answered truthfully. "I'll catch up with everything when I'm back on Tuesday night."

"You know…" Greg's lips curling up into a wry grin. "I remember a time when Sara Sidle would have dropped everything – even if it was her downtime – and turned up at _any_ crime scene that had a chance of being linked to hers."

"Well that's when I had different priorities." Reaching past him, she pulled the heavy front door open. "My family comes first now and, no matter how interesting or intriguing the case is, the job is a distant second."

"I've noticed." Greg commented as he looked out towards his car parked by the curb. "And you know what? Comparing the two, I think I like this Sara better than the other one."

"So do I, Greg." Standing proudly in the doorway of her family's new home, Sara grinned happily. "So do I"

* * *

The stupid bitch had no one to blame but herself.

Staring out through the smears and streaks that marred the window beside him, Zephyr made a conscious effort to appear calm and untroubled to his fellow passengers as he seethed inwardly at the woman who'd had the nerve to spoil his carefully crafted plan. Without her interference he'd have been on his way by now but, instead, he had to make his way back to the house to spend, what was now going to be, a wasted day before he could head out again tonight in the hope of finally being able to get his latest idea underway.

He tugged the bill of his baseball cap further down to obscure his features even more than it already did. He hated public transport with a passion; in a car he had anonymity but it was impossible to hide a six foot six inch frame on a bus and the last thing he wanted to do in public was draw any more attention to himself than he had to.

He rubbed his hands up and down against the faded fabric of his denim jeans and ran through the final moments that he'd spent in the stolen Toyota Camry he'd left just half an hour ago in the outer reaches of one of the Cannery Casino's parking lots. Knowing that the area would be covered by security cameras, he'd wiped the sedan's interior down as thoroughly as he could before climbing out and standing with a deliberate slouch as he ran the rag in his hand over all parts of the driver's door that he could have conceivably touched before slamming it shut and walking away. Unsure of just when he'd be out of the cameras sights, he'd kept up the slump pretence as he'd exited the lot and crossed East Craig Road to North Lawrence where he'd then straightened up again before hurrying his way along Mendenhall Drive to Losee Road and the bus route north that would eventually get him home.

As for the woman, he'd made sure that she'd be found some time before the end of the week, and he'd also made sure that the person he'd chosen to discover her would get just as big a surprise by her sudden and unexpected appearance as he had.

 **A/N:** Thank you SylvieT :)


	13. Chapter 13

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 13 ~**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry, once again, for the delay in posting; I promise, I am going to do my utmost to get this thing on track.

* * *

Narrowing his eyes against the harsh glare of the overhead fluorescent lighting, Grissom cupped his hand beneath the running faucet and, filling it with water, quickly washed down the two Motrin he'd had the foresight to bring with him.

He felt better than he had in days especially since both the nausea and vomiting had disappeared but the constant low-level headache and occasional abdominal twinge still bothered him and, as much as he hated to admit it, the energy he'd expended trailing behind Sara in what felt like an almost constant loop around the large baby store was beginning to take a toll.

He wiped his mouth and then washed both hands before pulling open the men's room door and, reentering the dining area of the Henderson bistro they'd chosen for lunch, made his way back to the corner booth he was sharing with his wife.

"You okay?" Comfortably ensconced on one side of the well-padded bench, Sara eyed him warily as he retook to his seat. "You're looking paler than you were when we left this morning," she shook her head. "I knew we shouldn't have come out today."

"I'm fine," he assured her as he offered what he hoped was a convincing smile. "I'm just a little tired still, that's all; I bet I'll be ready to go again just as soon as I've refueled."

"You've barely refueled since Saturday morning," Sara commented dryly. "And just because Ben seems to have bounced back quickly doesn't mean you have." She nodded towards her cell phone on the table. "I got a text from Judy while you were gone and apparently he's running around her place the way he normally does; I just hope she doesn't let him get too wild, the last thing he needs right now is to be overtired."

"Ben's perfectly fine and, considering she's raised three children of her own, I have absolutely no doubt that Judy Robbins knows what she's doing so stop worrying about him, okay." Reaching across he placed his hand gently over hers. "And I'm fine too, I promise." Grissom cocked his chin at the two glasses of iced tea that had not been on their table before his trip to the bathroom. "I'm going to guess we've ordered."

"Yep, although she said the kitchen is running a little behind at the moment so there's probably a fifteen to twenty minute wait." Sara nodded. "I ordered the grilled chicken salad you wanted and the pumpkin ravioli with brown butter and sage followed by tiramisu for me," she patted her stomach. "Because apparently someone's in the mood for Italian today."

"That's your story and you're sticking to it, huh?" Grissom chuckled as she eyed him indignantly. "All those times you've said in the past how much you love tiramisu but can't justify the calories and now you've got the perfect scapegoat."

"Are you accusing me of using our unborn child as an excuse to pig out?"

"No," he clarified, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm _teasing_ you for using our unborn child as an excuse to pig out." He smiled knowingly. "But, if there's any time to spoil yourself a little it's now because, trust me, you won't get the chance to do much of it after our little friend there arrives." He eased back against the booth's plush backrest. "So, are you happy with today's purchases?"

"Yes, definitely." Sara nodded happily. "We managed to get everything I had on my list plus some things that I probably never would have even thought of." She frowned. "Are you sure we'll need a bassinet though? We still have Ben's crib, I kind of thought that that would do."

"And it will," Grissom concurred. "But 2 a.m. feeds get old really quickly and, believe me, having the ability to keep the baby close at hand, especially during the first couple of months is going to be a lifesaver." He smiled a little sadly. "It was Mom that taught me that one; she spent two weeks staying with me when I first bought Ben home from the hospital and one of the first things she did was go out and buy a bassinet."

"Mom knows best, huh?" Sara returned his smile with a soft one of her own. "I wish she could see him now; she'd be so proud of him."

"I'd like to think that she can." Dropping his gaze, Grissom placed his hand on his wife's stomach. "And that she'll be watching over this one as well." He chuckled quietly. "She was shocked when she ended up with one grandchild, she'd never have imagined having two." Gently caressing the swell beneath his fingers, he glanced up, both eyebrows raised in question. "And speaking of grandmas…"

"No!" Reaching out for her glass, Sara gave her head an adamant shake. "I know she's the only living grandparent our children have but you know how she reacted to Ben when we took him in to meet her, I'm not putting him or _us_ in that kind of position again."

"She was shocked, Sara," Grissom quickly pointed out. "And you never really gave her a chance to get over it. You'd been going to see her every month like clockwork and she'd have been expecting that visit to be just like all the rest and, instead, you turned up with your estranged husband who, to be honest, she's never been entirely comfortable with and a ten month old baby that you were suddenly claiming was your son." He held up a finger to halt the outraged protest that he knew was about to burst forth. "And, before you say it, we all know that Ben is, without a doubt, one hundred percent yours however, to Laura there was just no way that the things you were telling her could be true." He patted her bump. "But now, you'd be going there with this, with proof that a baby is on the way; she'd be able to adjust to the idea of a grandchild gradually and, once she'd done that, I'd like to bet that she'd accept Ben too."

"Possibly," Sara conceded a little grudgingly. "And, looking back, I'm willing to admit that, maybe, I could have handled things a bit better but, if there's one thing that episode reminded me of, it's that my mother's moods can turn on a dime and the end result is never pretty." Dropping her hand, she placed it firmly over his on her belly. "I grew up dealing with that, remember, so I know firsthand just how scary that can be for a child and I will not put ours through that." She sighed wearily. "We make sure she gets the best possible medical help that we can, Gil and, maybe one day, they'll get her stable enough that I'll feel that I can trust her with my family but, considering how long she's been getting treatment, I can't see that happening anytime soon…" She took a deep breath and let it our slowly before continuing. "So I think the safest thing for all us is to just accept that Grandma Laura is not going to be in the picture, okay?"

"I've said from the start it was all up to you but-"

"But nothing." Determined that what she was doing was right for all of them, Sara was not about to budge. "Maybe I'll start going to see her again after the baby is born but I'm not going to tell her anything about it, okay? There's a part of me that's sad that it has to be that way but there's a bigger part of me that's determined to protect _my_ children…" she squeezed his hand tightly, "… _my_ family in whatever way I have to and if that means keeping my mother out of their lives then so be it."

"Okay." Raising both hands in surrender, Grissom decided a change of subject was, undoubtedly, the best course of action. "Have we made a final decision on the paint for the nursery?"

"You know, I love the green and, if I'm honest, that really is the color I want to use but now I'm second-guessing myself thanks to Greg's assertion that the baby's a girl." Sara sighed in exasperation, both at her friend's steadfast declaration and her own indecision. "I mean, I don't particularly lean towards pink myself but, if he's right about the sex, others will and I'm not sure how a whole load of pink is going to look in a green room."

"If you want the green go with the green and don't put too much stead in what Greg says," Grissom advised as he idly massaged his left temple. "He's been making claims about his grandmother's gifts for years now and, so far, he hasn't been able to prove a single one of them"

"You think it'll look alright?" There was no mistaking the renewed hope in the question. "I mean, it's a pretty neutral green; it would work for either a boy or a girl, right?"

"Of course it would," Grissom assured her. "And, if we stop off at the hardware store after we're done here, I can have the room prepped, painted and ready to fill with everything we just bought by the end of the week." He leaned forward slightly. "Since you're back at work tomorrow night, I thought you could spend the morning taking it easy with Ben while I head back out to Swallow Bay and collect the rest of the data that I'll need for this month's report." He shrugged. "It'll only take a couple of hours so I should be back in time to make lunch for the two of you."

"Do you really need to work tomorrow?" Sara asked, her brow furrowing in concern. "Despite what you said before I know you're not feeling well; surely you could get what you need later in the week."

"Possibly," Grissom conceded, "but I'm meeting up with Brass on Wednesday, the pool will be filled and, hopefully, the contractor and his guys will finish up on Thursday and we've got two new cars to pick up on Friday morning so, if I don't do it tomorrow, I'm not sure when I'll be able squeeze it in."

"Don't tell me Jim's got you trying on suits for the wedding already."

"As far as I know he's not even thought of stuff like that yet." Suddenly unsure of the reception he was about to get, Grissom cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably on the bench. "Actually, we're going out to buy a gun."

"Excuse me?" Sara's eyes widened at the news.

"We're going to drive out to that firearms place on South Durango and I'm going to buy myself a gun." He elaborated before offering her a fairly nonchalant shrug. "I think, given what's been going on around here lately, that's probably the sensible thing to do, don't you?"

"Um, possibly…" A bemused smile played around her lips as she processed the information. "But you hate guns."

"True," Grissom conceded with a small nod. "But I love my family and, like you, I need to make sure that they're protected." He watched her face, still not entirely sure that she completely onboard what he was telling her. "Conrad fast-tracked a concealed carry permit for me and Jim's going to put me through my paces at the range so it won't even be coming into the house until we're both satisfied that my skills are up to scratch again."

"You're actually going to carry a weapon?" Sara chuckled. "Something that you all but refused to do when it was part of your job."

"Yes, I am but back then I really only had to worry about myself" Locking eyes with hers, he smiled softly. "Now I have to worry about the three of you and if that means buying, carrying and maybe someday using a firearm then that's what I'm going to do."

"Well, I certainly don't have any problem with it especially considering I've heard more than one cop over the years say that when it comes to marksmanship you could outshoot them with your eyes closed but, before I agree to it, I do want an assurance from you."

"Ben will never even know I've got it." Confident that he knew where she was headed, Grissom rushed to reassure her. "I've researched it online and if I get one of those holsters that sit on the inside of my waistband, it'll never be on show and, just as you do with yours, the minute I get home, it'll be locked away in the gun safe; he'll never come in contact with it."

"Good to know but that's not actually what I meant; I just want you to promise that you won't only be carrying this weapon for our protection." Sara smiled. "There are times when you're working in the field that you're miles away from other people – from help – and, just as you worry about our safety, I worry about yours," reaching out she wove her fingers through his. "And not only because of recent events; a lot of people have spent time behind bars in Clark County because of you and, if one of them were to discover where you're working now and how easy it would be to get you alone…" Her voice trailed off as the imagined scenario played out in her mind. "I just… I just need to know that you'll be safe too, that's all, and that you'll protect yourself just as much as you plan to protect us."

"Nothing's going to happen to me." Tightening his hold on the fingers clasped around his own, Grissom grinned. "Trust me, honey; there is nothing in this world that's more important to me than our family's safety and by 'our family' I really do mean all four of us."

"Here we go, folks, I'm sorry for the wait." Expertly balancing a tray on one hand, their waitress used the other to slide a plate in front of each of them before stepping back with a beaming smile. "I hope you enjoy your meal."

"Thank you; I'm sure we will." Glancing down at the mixture of chargrilled chicken slices, salad vegetables and avocado on his plate, Grissom felt is stomach roil at the prospect of actually putting any of it in his mouth and he looked up at his wife instead, not at all surprised to find her already working on her second forkful of ravioli.

"You wouldn't happen to be hungry, would you?"

"I'm starving." Sara confirmed with a shameless grin as she made short work of skewering another piece of pasta with her fork. "And I can't wait to get my hands on that tiramisu." She rolled her eyes heavenward. "God, I have a horrible feeling that I'm going to be the size of a house before this kid is finished with me. You know…" Swallowing her latest mouthful, she took a quick sip of iced tea before dabbing her lips with her napkin. "Since you decided to come clean about buying a gun, I guess there's something I really ought to admit to you." Suddenly nervous, she cleared her throat. "It's probably nothing to worry about but I mentioned it to Helen and she convinced me that it's something that you really ought to know."

"Okay." Intrigued and a little worried about his wife's statement, Grissom sat up straighter in his seat. "Shoot."

"You're probably not going to like it," she warned.

"That's something we won't know until you tell me." He deliberately kept his tone light but Grissom couldn't ignore the sense of foreboding her words had produced.

"Alright." Sara allowed herself the time to take a deep, calming breath. "Something happened last Thursday when I was driving home after shift." Watching him closely, Sara saw her husband's eyes begin to darken as she continued her confession. "At least, I think it did."

* * *

 **A/N2:** Thanks, as always, goes to SylvieT for the beta.


	14. Chapter 14

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 14 ~**

"Why did I ever think you were going to need practice?" Holding up the last of the used targets, Jim stared at the tight cluster of bullet holes that decorated the center of the paper sheet as he pushed through the heavy glass door that separated the shooting lanes from the gun range's large reception area beyond.

"The fact that I hadn't fired any kind of weapon since I left Vegas might have had something to do with it." Following closely behind, Grissom held his new gun case in one hand and his safety glasses and earmuffs in the other. "Although, I have to admit, even I was surprised at just how quickly it all came back to me."

"Probably has more to do with the fact that once you've got something in that head of yours it's there for life," Brass countered as he folded the paper in half. "Anyone else would have walked in here and been rusty as hell while you come in, take aim like it's a daily occurrence and blow the bad guy away."

"If only I could," shoving his protective gear into the bag he'd been given at the store, Grissom shrugged. "It would certainly make life simpler at the moment, that's for sure." He cocked his chin towards the drink machine near the main door. "Come on, I'll buy you a soda."

Drinks in hand, and with nods of thanks to the security guard on the door, they stepped out into the bright, late morning sun and quickly made their way across the half-filled lot to the Murano. Rounding the back of the car, Grissom hit the unlock button on the key fob and, pulling the driver's door open, dumped both the gun case and carrier bag on the seat as Brass climbed in on the other side.

Removing the Glock from its case, he quickly swapped out its standard fifteen round magazine for the twenty-two round extended mag he'd chosen and reloaded it before reaching back and pushing it securely into the holster situated inside the waistband of his pants at the rear of his right hip. He tugged down the blue polo shirt he was wearing and, turning a little self-consciously, presented his back to Brass.

"Is that okay?" Smoothing the material, he looked back over his shoulder. "It's not too obvious, is it?"

"No, it's fine," popping open his can of Sprite, Jim chuckled. "You're not going to hit me with the 'does my gun look big in this' question every time I see you now, are you?" He grinned at the disdainful glare his joke elicited. "Seriously though, the way that holster sits, the only way someone's going to know that you're carrying is if they're looking for it so, as long as you don't suddenly feel the need to start wearing skin-tight clothes, you'll be fine."

"Well, I think that's pretty unlikely, don't you?" Reaching back, Grissom placed the carrier bag on the back seat and then climbed in behind the steering wheel before opening his bottle of water. "The main thing for me is that it stays out of sight and it doesn't get in the way when I'm carrying Ben."

"Way back there should be fine." Taking a mouthful of his ice-cold soda, Jim studied his old friend carefully. "So, you want to blow the bad guy away, huh?"

"Wouldn't you if you were in my position?" Both eyebrows rose in question as Grissom turned in his seat. "He's playing with her, Jim."

"Helen filled me in last night," Brass admitted, "but she also said that there's a chance that it was, maybe, nothing more than a lapse in concentration on Sara's part." Eyes locked on the hard set of his friend's jaw, he raised both eyebrows in question. "You really believe something happened?"

"I have to," Grissom said simply, "because it's the only thing that makes any sense." Turning again, he stared out at the busy street up ahead. "Sara's still not convinced it did and is leaning more and more towards it being a pregnancy-induced daydream but, after reading up on it, her 'baby brain' explanation doesn't work for me." He sighed heavily. "And the only other explanations I can come up with are that it actually _did_ occur or I have a wife who's zoning out to such an extent while she'd driving that she's a danger to herself, our baby and everybody else who happens to be in the vicinity at the time." Raising his right hand, he massaged the area around his temple. "She gets tired, sure, but I can't believe she'd be so cavalier with her safety that she'd ever allow herself to drive in that state." He shook his head. "No, I believe he was in that car with her last Thursday and, since nothing else seems to have happened, I can only assume that he's doing it to mess with her head."

"Blind optimism on Sara's part versus worst case scenario on yours, huh?" Jim thought for a moment. "Well, as a retired detective, I should probably insist on something a little more tangible than feelings and suppositions but, as someone who knows only too well the kind of whackos that people working in law enforcement can attract, I'm more than willing to go along with you on this one. Did you check the car for prints?"

"Uh huh," Grissom nodded. "I had Catherine come over and process it yesterday but the only adult-sized fingerprints she pulled belonged to me and Sara." He shrugged. "There were plenty of small ones that were, undoubtedly, Ben's but nothing else turned up, there were no strange smears or partials and no trace either; for all intents and purposes, the Prius was perfectly clean."

"Well, that doesn't mean someone wasn't in it," Jim pointed out. "It just means they were careful, that's all." He thought for a moment. "The security system at the house was installed on Monday afternoon, correct?"

"Yeah, which, at least, means the house is safe; if there's one thing I'm confident about it's that no one is getting in there without the code."

"That's good," Brass nodded his approval. "And the Toyota and…", leaning forward, he gave the Murano's dash a quick pat, "…this will be replaced on Friday so, in that regard, we've, at least, made it harder for someone to follow her on the road; which now really only leaves the Lab and the journey to and from it."

"Cath promised me back when Sara was first taken that she wouldn't be sent out anywhere alone so there's always either someone else from the team or a couple of uniformed officers at scenes with her," Grissom told him. "But she's only cleared for fieldwork for another few weeks anyway so having her stuck in the lab will be one less thing to worry about." He swallowed a mouthful of water. "And I've made her promise that if she's feeling especially tired at the end of shift she'll give me a call so I can go and pick her up; I'd much rather deal with an early morning trip across town than I would the consequences of-"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes tight as the persistent headache he'd been dealing with for days suddenly ramped up.

"That's not the same headache as last week, is it?"

"Actually, it is," eyes still closed, Grissom gestured blindly towards the dashboard. "There's some Motrin in the glove compartment, could you get me a couple?"

"Sure." Keeping a watchful eye on his friend, Jim quickly retrieved the bright orange box and, popping two caplets free, placed them in Grissom's outstretched hand. "Shouldn't you see someone about it? That's not exactly normal you know."

"I know and, if it goes on too much longer, I will," Tossing both pills in his mouth, Grissom took a long pull from his water bottle and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I thought it was all part and parcel of the bug Ben and I had on the weekend but, considering he was back to normal in less than twenty-four hours and I'm still dealing with intermittent nausea and stomach pain _plus_ this damned headache five days later, I'm starting to wonder." He fumbled his sunglasses from the center console and slipped them into place. "I actually thought I was getting over it yesterday when I just had the headache and nothing else but, after Sara left for work, it all came back with a vengeance and I spend most of last night throwing up."

"If you'd called and told me this morning we could have rescheduled," Brass bit his lip as went over everything he'd just been told. "You know, it kind of sounds like stress to me; maybe Sara's head isn't the only one he's playing with after all."

"Yeah, that's what I'm beginning to think." Grissom concurred. "I don't usually stress out to such an extent though, not like this anyway."

"Look at what's going on in your life at the moment, Gil." Lifting his hand, Jim bent his fingers one by one to illustrate his various points. "You've got a pregnant wife who is - and please don't tell her I said this – a little on the older side when it comes to having babies, especially her first; an healthy, active two-year-old running about the place and getting into everything which can be exhausting and stressful in itself; you've just moved house and are still busy renovating and now you've got this…" he shrugged, "… person playing god knows what game for god knows what reason." Reaching out, he gave Grissom's arm a friendly pat. "Given all of that, I'd actually be amazed if you _weren't_ stressed." He nodded towards the painkiller packet in his hand. "Have you told Sara about any of this?"

"Well, she knows I was sick over the weekend, naturally, and she knows I'm still not feeling great but I don't want to worry her at the moment any more than I have to so -"

"So you haven't told her just how unwell you are," Jim finished for him adding a roll of the eyes at the end for effect. "You really think she's going to let you get away with that excuse?" Pursing his lips, he shook his head in mock derision. "Not a chance, my friend. Look, do me a favor, okay; after you drop me back at my place, I want you go home, lock the door behind you and spend some family time with your wife and son without worrying about what's going on in the outside world." Straightening in his seat, he suddenly sobered. "You let him get in your head and stay there, Gil and, whatever game it is he's playing, he'll win."

"I'd love to but I can't." Forestalling the protest he knew was coming, Grissom hurried on. "I wanted to be there yesterday when Catherine processed the car so I left the lake a little earlier than usual; I'm heading out there now to finish up which will take me a couple of hours and then I have to pick Ben up from daycare and do some grocery shopping or we're not going to be eating tonight."

"You really need to work today?" There was no mistaking the skepticism in Jim's tone.

"My report and the samples I'm collecting are due in on Friday so, yeah, I do but I'm willing to concede a point; I can probably skip the shopping and order in instead," he smiled and shrugged. "Ben will be delighted and I'm not going to pretend that some quality time with the two of them isn't appealing."

"Well, make sure that's what you do then." Reaching back, Brass pulled his seatbelt around himself and clipped the buckle neatly into its housing. "And if that headache doesn't sort itself out by the end of the day, I want you to promise that you'll finally tell Sara what's going on." Returning the Motrin packet to the glove compartment, he pushed the small door shut. "God knows, Helen loves to regale me with horror stories about men our age who keel over without warning and, if you don't do something about the stress you're putting yourself under, I'm worried that the next poor stiff she's telling me about might very well be you."

* * *

Crouching down beside his backpack a half dozen yards away from the shore of Merganser Cove, Grissom slid the last of the labelled water samples deeply into the bag's well-padded exterior pocket before pulling his Nikon D7500 camera free of its case and, pushing up off his knees, stood and turned to look out across the large expanse of Lake Mead.

Whether it was the brisk afternoon breeze blowing in across the water, the almost three mile hike he'd taken to get to his current position or the Motrin he'd downed in the gun range's car park, he wasn't sure but, while the headache still lingered, it was now little more than a background annoyance, something he was more than grateful for as he framed the water's edge in the camera's LCD screen and quickly snapped off a dozen or so shots of the surrounding area.

He loved it out here and, after Jim's prophet of doom proclamation, the peace and serenity that nature offered was more welcome - and needed - than ever before.

Situated almost exactly midway between Boxcar Cove and Callville Bay, the somewhat isolated inlet was rarely used by anyone other than long-term locals and, as such, escaped much of the wear and tear that the easier to access areas suffered. Thick patches of mesquite and desert-willow lined the banks while the waterline itself played host to a veritable jungle of cattails and rushes, making the cove a safe and secure nursery for the masses of striped and largemouth bass hatchlings that seemed to prefer the northern side of the lake.

Making his way carefully over the rugged terrain, he walked up past the thickest of the vegetation and was just turning back for a couple of overall shots when the wind suddenly strengthened and, pausing, Grissom frowned at the unexpected odors that washed around him.

One was a harsh chemical smell that he couldn't quite put his finger on but the second he was only too familiar with and, concentrating primarily on that one, he quickly traced a path back down towards the water and then into the edges of the nearest thicket. He looked around, still not seeing the source but the cloying, fetid stench confirming that it was definitely here somewhere. Squatting down, he studied the ground at his feet and, seeing nothing, expanded his search a little further afield.

The drag marks and single set of footprints, when he found them, were faint and in some places almost intangible, but they were enough to lead him to his quarry: propped against a tree trunk, bound, blindfolded and most definitely dead.

 **A/N:** Thank you, SylvieT :)


	15. Chapter 15

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 15 ~**

Keeping as low as she could manage to avoid the thick tangle of sticks and branches, Catherine worked her way out of the small copse by the water's edge and, standing upright again, surveyed the surrounding area with interest.

It had taken her the better part of an hour to finally get to the site of their latest body dump, over territory and terrain that she hadn't even known existed before today. Born and bred in Las Vegas, she'd been visiting Lake Mead and its environs for as long as she could remember but this particular part of it was a revelation to her; however, given just how difficult she and the two dayshift CSIs she travelled in with had found access to it, that wasn't altogether surprising.

The sound of a outboard motor approaching from the south-west caught her attention and, looking out across the broad expanse of water, she watched as a Park Service patrol boat moved slowly across the mouth of the cove doing its best to police a demarcation line between the crime scene and the small collection of pleasure boats and jet skis that had begun to gather as soon as word of the discovery had begun to spread around.

Turning her back on both the scene and the lake, she carefully made her way across the rough and uneven ground until she reached the small grouping of boulders set twenty-five yards away that she'd been directed towards and the solitary figure seated on them.

"I knew you were lying."

"Excuse me?" Looking up from the notebook he had been busily writing in, Grissom squinted in the bright afternoon sun.

"Telling everyone that you have absolutely no interest in returning to the lab when all this time you've been wandering around out here searching for crime scenes," Catherine's grin widened. "My offer of the supervisor's job is still open, Gil, all you have to do is accept it."

"Crime scenes are the _last_ thing I'm looking for when I'm out here, Catherine," snapping his notebook shut, Grissom shoved it inside his pack. "And they're the last thing I want to find too, you can take my word on that."

"So," brushing the neighboring rock with the back of her hand, she settled herself beside him. "What were you doing out here?"

"Condition assessments," he told her as he slipped his reading glasses off and replaced them with sunglasses. "By regularly testing the soil and water around here we can determine just how healthy the lake is and, more importantly, identify and contain any problems, either naturally occurring or man-made, before things get out of hand."

"And by 'we' you mean the City?"

"The City, the Water Authority and the Park Service actually; it's a joint project. Everybody benefits by this place staying as clean and uncontaminated as possible which means about seventy-five percent of my worktime at the moment is spent filling in forms and writing reports but that's tempered by days like today when I get to come out here and take samples, check for bugs and reptiles and-"

"Find bodies?" Catherine suggested with a sarcastic grin.

"Not usually, no; this is the first one I've come across." He cocked his chin in the direction of the waterline. "I'm going to guess that she's the woman that disappeared from the bar last week."

"Yeah, that's her." Following his line of sight, Catherine watched as the coroner's assistants, one holding tightly to a rescue basket in place of their usual gurney, stood patiently just outside the tangle of bushes waiting to work their way in to retrieve the victim. "A vehicle went missing from the parking lot at around the same time that she did so we think she's probably disturbed whoever took it in the act." She shrugged. "The car turned up the next day at the Cannery casino and, while we got almost nothing on the guy that was driving it, we did find hair in the trunk that matched her DNA so, having her turn up dead isn't really that big of a surprise."

"Almost nothing on him?" Grissom queried.

"No prints or trace, he made a point of thoroughly wiping down both the inside and outside of the vehicle but we did manage to get him on tape, although the height of the cameras in that area coupled with the fact that he spent the entire time bent double was not particularly helpful." She began tapping out all the points of his description on the fingers of her left hand. "Blue jeans, grey t-shirt, ball cap, looks to be middle aged but could be older and height we can only guess at since he kept up the stoop all the way out of the parking lot, across Craig Road and into North Lawrence where he disappeared down a side road." She shrugged. "At this point we don't know if he has a bad back or he was just trying to keep his face hidden."

"He's not just hiding his face," Grissom posited, "no casino camera's going to give a clear shot of someone all the way across eight lanes of traffic so he's not going to keep it up for that; he was hiding something else." He thought for a moment. "And it can't be a bad back either, if it was he wouldn't have been able to get her into the car and then either drag or carry her all the way out here; not without help anyway."

"So what could he be hiding?" Staring down at the water's edge, Catherine watched as Mark Cronin accompanied by Kevin Crawford backed slowly out of the clump of bushes and stood off to one side to allow the coroner's men access. "And why bring her out here anyway? He left his earlier victims in places where they were pretty much guaranteed to be found within twenty-four hours or so but, if you hadn't been working here today, there's no telling when she'd have been discovered."

"Finding that out is your job, remember, not mine." Grissom shrugged. "She reeks of kerosene."

"I know," Catherine agreed. "So did the others; he never even attempts to light the stuff so I'm assuming he does it purely to destroy evidence…" she sighed dejectedly, "which it does. He smothered the first ones though; this one looks as though her neck has been broken."

"That could lend support to your theory that her killing was a spur of the moment thing," he suggested. "He had to keep her quiet and he had to do it quickly. How many others have there been?"

"She's the fifth," Catherine told him with a casual shrug. "And I'm hoping like hell that we'll get him before there's a number six." Turning slightly on her rock, she studied Grissom's profile with a frown of concern. "You don't so look well; you're not still sick, are you?"

"No, I'm fine," he told her with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "It's just turned into a much longer day than I was anticipating, that's all; I was supposed to pick Ben up from day care over two hours ago."

"Well, why didn't you say something before?" Catherine quickly pulled her cellphone from her pocket. "It'll be easy enough to find someone to run over there and get him," she looked up expectantly. "Who do you want me to call?"

"If you want to use your phone, you're going to have to hike at least halfway up the slope; cell reception is almost non-existent in these areas," Grissom bit back a grin at the look of abject horror his comment produced. "Which is what I had to do when I called 911 then, straight after that, I phoned Sara and let her know what was going on so, I'm quite sure that Ben will be happily playing at home by now."

"Well that's good." Putting her phone away again, Catherine retook her seat as she eyed the somewhat steep sides of the canyon. "But now you've got me wondering exactly how we're going to get our victim out of here." Turning slightly, she looked back in the direction she'd originally arrived from. "The walk in here was bad enough but three miles laden down with a body, evidence and all our equipment doesn't exactly sound like fun."

"You're not walking out," Grissom told her with a smile. "The rangers have one of their larger boats sitting just outside this cove so, when you're ready to go, they'll move in and pick you guys and the victim up and have you back at your vehicles in about five minutes."

"What about you?" Catherine frowned.

"Oh, I hope I'll be long gone by then," Grissom cocked his chin in Crawford's direction. "He said I'd be free to go once I'd given him a statement so, as soon as we've accomplished that, I'll head back out the way I came in." He shrugged. "Maybe I can make it home in time to spend at least some of the afternoon with my wife and son like I'd planned."

"You're not interested in hanging around for old time's sake?" she queried. "It's been a while; I'd have thought you missed things like this."

"You're joking, right?" Returning his gaze to the group of people still standing around about the lake shore, Grissom felt his stomach turn at the thought of any further involvement. "Like I said, I'm going home to my family."

"And, speaking of which," Catherine hesitated slightly before pressing on. "I had a call from Jim before I left the lab."

Grissom quickly swung his attention back to his companion. "About what?"

"About Sara actually, he told me that he'd spoken to you this morning and that you'd filled him in on the precautions we've put in place to ensure that she's safe at a scene but he wanted to know how I'd feel about pulling her from the field a little earlier than we'd agreed to."

"How much earlier?" Grissom frowned. "She's only got a few weeks left."

"I know and I did point that out to him," Catherine assured him, "but he seems to think that pulling her out now would be the smartest thing to do." She shrugged. "He's obviously gone home after talking to you, thought things over and slipped back into detective mode or something; he's always been protective of her, you know that."

"That makes it sound like I'm not," Grissom pointed out with a weary sigh. "Look, I get where he's coming from but, honestly, I think work-wise, she's as safe as we can make her. Sara wants as normal a pregnancy as she can possibly have which, in this case, means following her doctor's recommendations and not those that come from an over-protective Jim Brass." He chuckled. "Besides, if you pull her early, I'm willing to bet that I'm the one that'll get the blame." Turning towards her, he shook his head. "Let her have her two weeks, Cath, I think a familiar routine will actually be good for her; she's got people with her when she's in the field so I doubt she'd be any safer confined to the lab anyway." He shrugged and smiled. "Regardless of where she is, as long as those around her are aware of the possible dangers, I'm sure she'll be just fine."

"Well, I've started restricting her to easier cases anyway so we can carry on with that and see how things go," Catherine nodded her agreement. "I've got Mark lined up to replace her when she does step back from the field so, if we do need to pull her, I can shift him from Days to Grave anytime I need-"

Both heads turned as one as activity around the waterline suddenly ramped up and they watched as the victim was finally inched out of the mass of vegetation.

"Well, it's about time." Pushing to her feet, Catherine stretched as the coroner's men, helped by both Cronin and Crawford, carried the basket and its cargo clear of the scene and away from the prying eyes of their floating audience. "Now we can really get to work." Turning her back on the scene, she smiled. "I'll send Crawford back to take that statement from you so you can finally get home." Her smile morphed into a grin. "Unless, of course, you've changed your mind; the invitation's still there if you want to join us."

"No, thanks," Grissom gave his head a determined shake. "The last thing I want to do this afternoon is follow a murder investigation."

"Well don't forget the job offer," moving off, Catherine called back over her shoulder. "I'm holding it for you, remember."

"You're wasting your time," Grissom countered almost airily.

"I'll wear you down," picking up the pace, Catherine chuckled, "just you wait and see."

"No you won't," he commented to himself as he followed her progress down the slight rise they'd been sitting on to the clearing where the body had been placed for evidence retrieval. "Try as hard as you like and as long as you like but there's not a single thing on the face of this planet, Cath, that's going to make me change my mind."

* * *

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

Dumping his backpack onto his office chair and his cell phone, wallet and car keys onto the desk, Grissom smiled as he heard both the excited voice and running feet approaching before a pair of small arms wrapped themselves around his left knee from behind and a solid little body pressed itself tightly to the back of his leg.

"Hey buddy," bending slightly, he loosened his son's hold and, with a well-practiced scoop, swung the little boy up before settling him securely in the crook of his arm. "I'm sorry I couldn't come pick you up; did you have a fun day?"

"Mmmm," with his mouth smeared with a thick white paste, Ben nodded his answer as he held up his equally decorated hands. "Yo-kwert."

"Afternoon snack time, huh?" Deciding to ignore the fact that his pants were now undoubtedly plastered with Stonyfield Organic vanilla yogurt, Grissom carried the little boy across the hallway towards to the kitchen. "Come on, let's go find Mommy."

"I'm sorry." In the midst of rinsing out the bowl her son had used, Sara quickly bent and placed it in the dishwasher then pushed the door closed before standing up with a grin. "The little devil took off before I could grab him and at least wipe his hands." Chucking the toddler under his chin, she leaned in and pressed a welcoming kiss to his father's lips. "Long day?"

"Too long." Settling Ben more comfortable on his arm, Grissom sighed. "I don't know how you did it, you know; going back to the job, I mean." He shook his head. "I was so glad to leave the lab when I did and now, having been at an active scene again, I know that I could never return to that world."

"You left when the time was right for you," Sara stated simply, "which is exactly the way people should draw the curtain on a career that they lived and loved for years." Leaning across the benchtop, she snagged a packet of baby wipes and pulled a couple free. "While, in my case, Natalie's actions forced me out before my time." Quickly wiping Ben's face and hands clean, she grasped him beneath the arms and placed him down on his feet before stepping in and wrapping her arms as far around Grissom's waist as the mound of her belly would allow. "As strange as it sounds, going back to it when I did helped me take the final steps of the healing process." She chuckled. "It didn't do much for our marriage, mind you-"

"It was the distance that did the damage there not the job," he pointed out, "and we worked it out eventually." Relaxing for, what felt like, the first time in days, Grissom placed his hands on her hips as Ben wandered off to his toy box. "Well, if nothing else, I now know there's no way I could even consider taking that supervisor's job."

"I never for a moment thought you would," she told him with a knowing grin. Sliding her left hand a little lower than her right, Sara traced the edge of his waistband until her fingers landed on the Glock's solid handgrip. "Ha, I found it; so much for concealed carry."

"Considering you knew it was going to be there I'm not entirely sure we can count that as a eureka moment," leaning forward, he kissed her forehead. "I've got to go and put it away."

"Well, you go do that and then Ben has something to show you out in the backyard," breaking the hold she had on him, Sara nodded down at his pants. "You might want to change those while you're in the bedroom though; it look like someone's been practicing his finger painting on them."

He'd just stepped back when the sound of his cellphone ringing drifted through from the office and, with weary sigh, Grissom shook his head. "Ten-to-one that's Catherine."

Realising just how tired he actually was, she waved him off. "You go, I'll get it and if it does turn out to be her, I'll say that you'll call her back tonight before shift." She shrugged. "I doubt there's any questions she could have for you that won't wait until then anyway."

Five minutes later, Sara entered the bedroom with Ben in tow; he'd come running at the sound of the caller's name and, although clearly miffed by her refusal to turn the phone over to him, he'd obediently followed after her as she'd left the office and made her way towards the other end of the house.

"You didn't have to come check on me." Pulling on a well-worn pair of chinos, Grissom smiled as the pair walked into the room. "I've locked it safely away, I promise."

"I'm sure you have; I, uh," she faltered slightly. "That was Glen on the phone."

"Glen?" Grissom frowned. "The girls okay?"

"Yeah, they're both fine; he was…" She felt a little hand touch her leg and leaning down, she scooped Ben up and held him tightly. "He was actually calling about Melissa."

"What on earth is he phoning about her for?" Grissom scoffed at the name. "Don't tell me, she needs bail money."

"No, no, it's nothing like that." Sara fought the sudden urge to cover her son's ears even though there was absolutely no way he could know that they were discussing the woman who'd abandoned him at birth. Running her fingers through his wavy hair, she took a deep breath before continuing. "She's dead, Gil, they got the call about an hour ago." Pressing a kiss to the top of her son's head, she met her husband's surprised stare with her own level one. "Melissa's dead."

 **A/N:** Thanks, as always goes to SylvieT for the beta. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 16 ~**

* * *

 **A/N:** Apologies for the delay and also for the length of this chapter, I hate when they run this long but sometimes it just can't be avoided.

* * *

Tapping his freshly printed boarding pass against his thigh, Grissom frowned as he watched the information screen above him flicker and update, moving Delta flight 1606 one step closer to departure.

Usually a busy and bustling place, McCarran airport by night was quiet by Vegas standards, populated as it was with small pockets of people either sitting or standing here and there awaiting one of the handful of red-eye flights that were scheduled to leave the city in the next couple of hours.

Movement to his left caught his attention and he pasted on a smile as he watched his wife exit the ladies room, her face lighting up with a sheepish grin as she strode purposefully across the concourse towards him.

"It's going to be one of those nights, I know it is." Surreptitiously adjusting the elastic waistband of the maternity slacks she was wearing, Sara rolled her eyes as she came to a stop. "I swear this kid is sitting on my bladder." Satisfied that her clothing was finally correctly situated, she nodded towards the card he held. "You all set now?"

"Yeah." Reaching down he picked his backpack up and swung it over his left shoulder. "And, by the sounds of things, it's just as well it's me that's going to spend the night stuck on a plane and not you." His forehead furrowed as the worries he'd been struggling to suppress finally broke free. "You know, maybe I shouldn't be going, maybe I should call Glen back and pull out; he's a big boy, he really doesn't need me there."

"Yes, he does," Sara countered as she reached to catch hold of his hand. She'd known this was coming; he'd grown more and more quiet as they'd made their way towards McCarran Airport, morphing from seemingly normal as he'd carried his sleeping son into the Robbins home to a deeply pensive silence as she'd driven them further north on I-215. She'd glanced across one or twice during the journey but, with his face turned towards the passenger-side window, she'd chosen to leave him alone, knowing from past experience that it was only a matter of time before he'd give voice to the thoughts running through his mind. "He's never done a formal identification before and you know how unsettling they can be." She slipped her fingers in-between his. "And he's never been to Florida before either whereas you lived there for over a year." She squeezed his hand and smiled. "Surely the least you can do is be there to hold his hand."

"But a seven hour flight there and then seven hours back again all in the space of, what?" Grissom shrugged. "A day and a half?" He sighed and shook his head. "The more that I think about it, the more stupid it actually seems."

"It's not stupid, it's helping out a friend who's the only one available to go and ID his kids' mother and…" she quickly glanced across at him, "she's Ben's mother too, remember or, at least, she was; I think going to Gainesville tonight is the right thing to do."

"No." Adjusting the pack on his shoulder, Grissom gave his head a determined shake. "She may have been the woman that carried and gave birth to him but Melissa was never his mother; you're the only one that he's ever had and ever _will_ have – I know it, you know it and, most importantly of all, Ben knows it." Pulling in a deep breath he let it out again as a sigh. "I just… I don't know, I hate the thought of leaving the two of you here alone."

"We'll be perfectly fine," Sara assured him as they began to walk down towards the gate area. "I'll pick Ben up from Judy's first thing in the morning and then the two of us can spend the day watching the pool being filled which ought to keep him more than entertained. " She swung their arms slightly as they walked in an effort to lighten his mood. "And, since I've already told Catherine I won't be in tomorrow night, maybe the two of us will order a pizza, watch some TV and then have an early night so we're all set to drive back out here and meet your plane on Friday morning." Turning her head, she graced her husband with a confident grin. "Anytime that we're not with other people we're going to be locked up, safe and sound, in the house so there's absolutely nothing to worry about, okay?"

"I had so much I wanted to get done over the next few days though," still not entirely convinced, Grissom shrugged. "I wanted to get the baby's room painted so we can get the furniture in there, then there are the Explorers to pick up…" he drew in a sharp breath. "Remember to give the dealership a call in the morning and let them know we won't be there until Friday afternoon, okay? God knows, we're spending enough money with them, there shouldn't be any problems with that."

"I'm sure there won't be but, if there is, I'll just reschedule it for Saturday and I'm sure the nursery can wait for another couple of days; Ben's at daycare on Monday so the two of us could do it together, things will go a lot quicker if he's not there trying to 'help' anyway." She stared at the line of passengers waiting at the security checkpoint up ahead. "I should probably leave you here; Catherine will be expecting me at the lab soon anyway." Dropping his hand, she turned to face him. "You've got everything?" Her eyebrows arced in question. "Your phone? Your glasses?"

"Yeah," Grissom nodded. "I… oh damn!"

Completely unsurprised, Sara grinned. "What have you forgotten?"

"The bag of stuff I was putting together in the bathroom," he returned her smile with a sheepish one of his own. "I'm pretty sure I left it sitting on the counter." His shoulders rose in a dismissive shrug. "It's not really important – toothbrush, comb, deodorant – I can pick up replacements when I get there."

"And your blood pressure tablets?"

"Well, no, I can't replace them but I don't suppose missing one dose is going to do much harm, is it?"

"It better not," leaning in, Sara wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. "I expect you back here, fit and healthy, on Friday morning, no excuses, okay?"

"I'll make a deal with you," ignoring their surroundings completely, Grissom tugged her closer before pressing his lips to hers. "You promise to make sure that you and Ben stay as safe as you possibly can and I'll promise to do my best to keep my blood pressure under control so I don't blow a fuse while I'm away."

"If you were actually able to do that you wouldn't need those meds in the first place, you know that, right?" she chuckled.

"Yeah, I do," placing a final lingering kiss to her forehead, Grissom winked as he loosened his hold. "Now you better get going before Catherine sends out a search party."

She turned with a laugh and he watched as she made her way back towards the terminal exit, raising his hand in answer to hers as she turned back one last time to wave goodbye before walking through the glass doors out into the night beyond.

The minute she was out of sight his imagination took over, picturing in vivid detail everything that could happen to her on her walk back to the Murano, upon her arrival at the vehicle and then on her way to the lab and, with a sigh that was an almost a fifty/fifty mixture of resignation and relief, he pulled his phone from his pocket and made a quick call.

"Hey, it's me…" Grissom took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "I've changed my mind."

* * *

"You know, I think Grissom's right." Settling herself more comfortably on one of the A/V lab's tall stools, Catherine stared up at the large screen on the wall before her. "If his back was so bad that he has to walk doubled over he'd never have been able to take his victim where he did and if he was hiding his face, he'd have straightened up as soon as he was sure he was far enough away from the cameras so he's disguising something else and, the only thing I can think of that it could be is his height; so," she tapped one carefully manicured fingernail against her teeth as she thought. "The question is do we have a computer program somewhere that can take a still from that video and manipulate him upright?"

"Not that I know of." Seated beside her, Greg deftly rewound the footage to a frame he was happy with. "But, even if we did I'm not sure we'd actually need it." He glanced up at her with a grin. "How long is a piece of string?"

"Um, twice as long as half its length?" Catherine offered him a confused shrug. I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, if I use this particular length of string to measure the distance from his hip to his knee…" Clicking his mouse pointer on those two points of their perpetrator's leg and then adjusting the resulting measurement to allow for the camera distance and angle, Greg quickly came up with a number. "… I get an approximate femur measurement of twenty-two inches and, if I then convert that to centimeters, multiply it by 2.32 and add 65.53 that's going to give us…" he quickly did the math on the folder in front of him. "An estimated height of 195.17 centimeters or almost six foot five."

"Now that's the kind of height that might just make you noticeable." She didn't even bother to hide her satisfied smile. "That calculation's accurate to within two inches, right?" Catherine asked.

"If you have the actual bone in front of you, yeah," Greg nodded. "I imagine we have a larger margin of error doing it from a photo but I don't actually think we're going to be too far out." He shrugged. "I'd maybe say another inch or so either way to be on the safe side."

"Well, looking at him now and knowing what we know," she stared at the paused picture and shook her head. "I don't think he's going to be on the smaller side of that so let's just ballpark it at somewhere around six-and-a-half feet." She nodded, pleased with what they'd accomplished but knowing that they'd need more than that in order to back Greg's theory up. "Let's just make sure we're on the right track though, okay? Head back out to the casino sometime tonight and make some comparison measurements; find some clear shots of him standing beside something - a car, a shrub, whatever - and use that to see how accurate we are." She bit her lip as she stared back up at the image. "Have a look through Lindsay's notes on that case she worked last week too – you know, the one were the guy was stabbed after accusing the wrong people of stealing his car keys – I'm sure there's some mention of a tall, older male in there somewhere – it may not be our guy but then again-"

"I could help you out with that."

With their attention focused on their work, neither had noticed the figure in the doorway and it wasn't until Catherine swung her stool around that she saw her.

"Hey," she smiled a warm welcome. "Did Gil get off okay?"

"Yeah, he did," stepping over the threshold, Sara entered the room itself. "Sorry, I'm a little later than I thought I'd be, there was an accident on the Strip and traffic was backed up to -"

She looked up at the monitor and instantly froze.

"Sara?" Catherine frowned. "You okay?"

There was no answer; standing stock-still the younger woman appeared to be transfixed by the image on the screen.

"Sara?" Catherine tried again as Greg quickly hopped off his seat and moved towards the door.

"Hey, Sara, you know who that is?" Keeping his voice low, Greg reached out and touched his friend's arm, a gesture that seemed to almost instantly snap her back to the present.

Quickly dropping her gaze from the still image, Sara jerked her head as if to clear her mind and then looked from Greg to Catherine and back again.

"I'm sorry," she smiled, clearly bemused at the looks on both their faces. "Did you say something?"

"Ah, yeah." Greg shot a concerned glance back over his shoulder before continuing. "I asked if you know who he is; the way you were staring at that picture was kind of-"

"No, no, I don't know him," Sara shook her head as if to emphasize the words. "I've never seen him before in my life" She looked past him to Catherine. "As I was saying though, I can help out by going through Lindsay's report if you want or even going out with Greg to get those measurements."

"I, uh …" Taken aback and unsure of what it was she'd just witnessed, Catherine shook her head. "You know, I really need to talk to you before we make any decisions on that." She checked her watch. "You want to meet me in my office in a couple of minutes?"

"Sure." Somewhat surprised by the turn of events, Sara jerked her thumb back over her shoulder towards the break room. "I'll just grab a bottle of water and see you in there."

Watching her carefully, Greg waited until she'd entered the other room before turning back with a frown. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure," Catherine admitted. "Exhaustion maybe; I've never seen someone completely switch off like that before." She drew in a deep breath. "Maybe this is a talk I should have had with her a couple of weeks ago."

"She's not going to like it." Greg commented as he returned to his place at the desk.

"Oh, I'm sure she won't." Pushing herself off her stool, Catherine closed the file folder she'd been using and slipped it beneath her arm. "But Sara liking it or not is no longer an issue," picking up the pen she'd been using, she made her way towards the doorway. "Because, after seeing that little performance, she's going to get absolutely no say in the matter."

Five minutes later, Sara sat up straighter in her chair as she glared across the crowded desk at Catherine. "You're pulling me from the field?"

"It's only a couple of weeks earlier than planned, Sara; is it really going to make that much of a difference?"

"Yes!" Moving forward to the very edge of her seat, Sara's eyes flashed with anger and indignation. "We all agreed that I'd be out in the field until I'm twenty-eight weeks," she shook her head. "It's bad enough that you made a unilateral decision to restrict the type of cases I'm allowed to work on but then you go and do this without even discussing it with me." She drew in a deep breath before letting it out as a voluble huff. "Thanks a lot, Cath; I could understand that kind of attitude if DB was still here but I was kind of expecting better from you."

"And, under normal circumstances, you'd get it but things haven't been normal around here since you were taken from that parking lot and you know it." Catherine countered. "There was always the possibility that you were going to be pulled early anyway; your doctor said that twenty-eight weeks was the _maximum_ he wanted to see you actively working in the field but I'm not comfortable letting you carry on any longer." Leaning back in her office chair, she watched the younger woman carefully. "I'm not, Conrad's not and Gil isn't either; it's just too big of a risk, Sara."

"Gil's not," Sara parroted as her mouth curled up in a sarcastic smile. "I thought you were the boss around here, Catherine."

"I am." She answered evenly.

"So why are doing Grissom's bidding?"

"Technically, I'm not," Catherine corrected. "If you want to blame someone for this then go and have a go at Jim Brass since he's the one who got the ball rolling on it in the first place."

"But Grissom pulled the trigger." It was a statement not a question.

"Yes, he did but, if I'm honest, I was leaning towards it myself anyway and, having seen the way you froze up in the A/V lab tonight, I really do think the correct decision has been made."

"For God's sake, Catherine, I zoned out for a moment, that's all; everybody does it at some time or other."

"Not that way they don't." Feeling her frustration levels rising, Catherine took a deep, calming breath and decided to bring the meeting to a close. "Look, I really don't want to spend the whole night debating this, okay; you're twenty-six weeks pregnant, you'd be out of the field in two weeks anyway and on maternity leave in nine; after speaking to Gil and then to Conrad, the decision's been made that the department is simply not willing to take any more risk with your safety and the safety of your baby than we have to." She shrugged. "From here on out, you're confined to this building during shift; you can help the guys out with any lab work they need done but, apart from that, you're on cold case reviews until your leave kicks in."

Screwing the cap on her water bottle with an angry twist, Sara pushed her way out of the chair. "Well, I suppose there's one good thing that might come out of me wading my way through all those unsolved cases."

"And what's that?" Catherine asked as she watched her make her way across to the door.

Reaching for the door handle, Sara offered her a cold smile. "Maybe I'll get lucky and pick up some pointers on how to kill your husband and get away with it."

* * *

"Thanks for coming, Gil." Dropping his black duffle bag at his feet, Glen Collins grasped Grissom's proffered hand tightly with his right one as he clapped him warmly on the shoulder with the other. "You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

"No problem," Grissom told him with an easy smile. "That's what friends are for and, as Sara pointed out to me right before I left, I probably owe it to Melissa to do whatever I can at a time like this anyway," he shrugged self-consciously. "After all, if it wasn't for her, we wouldn't have Ben." He glanced around the busy arrivals lounge of Gainesville Regional Airport. "You been here long?"

"Around an hour," Glen nodded towards the far end of the building. "Just enough time to drink the worst coffee I've ever had, call the hotel and make sure we were okay for early check-in and get a jump on booking a rental car." He cocked his head towards the agency counter on the far side of the concourse. "They just need a copy of your driver's license then we're good to go; you sure you don't mind playing chauffeur?"

"Well, I know the place so it makes sense for me to drive," Grissom grinned. "Provided you trust me, of course; we all know what happened the last time I rented a vehicle." He adjusted his pack on his shoulder. "What time are we supposed to be there for the identification?"

"I spoke to Detective Morrison just before I left home and he said he'd be in the office all day so to give him a call when we were ready and he'd meet us at the medical examiner's office." Glen took a deep breath. "Once we're finished there, he wants to take us over to the apartment she's been renting; apparently there's not much there, some furniture, clothing and the like but he thought we should maybe have a look around just in case there's something that might be important to the family." He shrugged. "I'm pretty sure it'll be a waste of time; Melissa never even took a photo with her when she walked out all those years ago and I don't imagine she's accumulated anything of any particular value since but, at least I'll be able to tell the girls that I went." He picked up his duffle again. "How's Sara?"

"She's fine," Grissom nodded. "Although a little pissed off this morning if the voicemail message she left me is anything to go by." The corners of his mouth curled up in an almost conspiratorial smile. "I sent a text back telling her I'd made it here okay and that I'd give her a call later today so hopefully that'll give her time to cool off a little."

"One of the benefits of being clear on the other side of the country, huh?" Glen chuckled. "And Ben?

"Ben's doing great; although I'm not sure he's forgiven you for not talking to him on the phone yesterday."

"Ah, so we're both in the doghouse," Glen smiled. "At least I can probably bribe my way out of mine a lot cheaper than you'll get out of yours." His smile faded as he locked eyes with Grissom. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

"Probably not," Grissom told him honestly. "Most people find formal IDs confronting; seeing someone you know and love laid out like that can be a hard thing to deal with." He sighed. "A lot is going to depend on how Melissa died and the fact that we're meeting up with a detective screams suspicious death to me so it's probably better to prepare yourself for the worst." Seeing the dread on the other man's face, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on his forearm. "I can come in with you if you like or even do the identification myself if you really can't face it."

"No, I can do it," Glen swallowed then gave his head a determined shake. "She put me through a lot before, during and after our marriage," he sighed heavily. "But, just like you, I think I owe it to Mel to see this through." He shrugged. "I just wish it was over with, that's all."

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard to arrange," pulling his wallet from his pants pocket, Grissom nodded towards the front of the terminal building. "Come on, we'll sort out the rental car and head downtown instead of going to the hotel first; I think the sooner we do this the better, don't you?"

 **A/N2:** Thanks for the beta, SylvieT :)


	17. Chapter 17

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 17 ~**

Leaning against the hood of the rented Chevy Impala, Grissom watched as Detective Alan Morrison exited the ground-floor apartment and strolled across the parking lot towards him. The man reminded him a lot of Jim Brass – a little taller and considerably heavier but wearing the same supposedly-jaded facade that, Grissom knew from experience, disguised a man who actually loved the work he was doing.

"He asked for a couple of minutes alone." Jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, Morrison shrugged. "God knows why though; it's not like the place is exactly welcoming."

"I know." Crossing his legs at the ankle, Grissom made himself a little more comfortable. Five minutes inside the place had been enough for him and he'd quickly excused himself from what had been Melissa's final abode; the thought that, had she kept him, Ben would have been living in similar surroundings, driving him out of the stale-smelling, almost bare rooms and into the relative freshness of the complex's overgrown grounds. "I'm guessing it was purely a base for her; it certainly doesn't feel like she spent much time here and I imagine the rent would be fairly inexpensive."

"Leaving plenty of money for alcohol," the detective commented dryly. "At least, I'm guessing from what Mr. Collins told me, that that's where a lot of her paycheck would have gone." He cocked his chin towards the apartment. "She certainly didn't spend anything on making that place livable; although, by the looks of this joint, the whole thing probably should have been pulled down years ago."

Moving in beside Grissom, he copied his stance against the sedan. "I hope you don't mind but I had a colleague of mine run your name through the system," he mentioned almost dismissively. "I though it sounded familiar when we were introduced back at the morgue but, given the circumstances, I didn't want to be rude and ask," he turned slightly, eyebrows raised in interest. "So, you're _that_ CSI, huh? I'm surprised you didn't go into the morgue with him this morning."

"I _was_ that CSI but it's been a long time since I was in the business," Grissom smiled "And, I did offer to go in with Glen but he decided that it was something he needed to do alone."

Morrison nodded. "I get that you're a friend of the family and all but Vegas is a heck of a long way from Gainesville; surely there was someone closer to Florida who could have come down here with Mr. Collins."

"Maybe there was but I lived here for a while before making my way back to Nevada and know the place so..."

"It made sense for you to come," Morrison finished for him.

"Well, that and I once had a very brief…" he paused as he searched for, and failed to find, an appropriate term, "… relationship, if you want to call it that, with Melissa which resulted in the birth of my son."

"Ah, I see." Morrison glanced back towards the apartment door. "And her husband was okay with that?"

"Ex-husband," Grissom clarified. "They'd been divorced for a long time before I met her."

"And you have the boy?"

"I've had sole custody since his birth." He grinned proudly. "Well, until my wife formally adopted him a few months ago, that is."

"Okay," Morrison nodded slowly as he digested the information. "I guess that means you hung around with Melissa while you were here, huh?"

"No, not at all," Grissom shook his head. "We both worked at the university but I really had little do with her until we met up one night at a bar and, thanks to that, I can probably verify anything that Glen told you about her drinking because she, pretty much, drank me under the table."

"The tests that came back this morning put her at almost three times the legal blood alcohol limit when she died so I can believe that," Morrison pulled out his notebook. "You wouldn't happen to know if there was anyone that she regularly drank with, would you?"

"I really can't help you, detective." Grissom shook his head. "The last time I had anything to do with Melissa was over two years ago on the day my son was born; I haven't seen or spoken with her since then," he shrugged. "In fact, the only contact we've had has been through her solicitor." He glanced across. "So, are you sure she was murdered?"

"Well, we can't be sure of anything until after the autopsy but I'm definitely leaning that way. Why?" The detective narrowed his eyes as he turned to stare at the man beside him. "You know something I don't?"

"No, as I said, when it comes to Melissa I'm essentially clueless but from past experience, drunks are much more likely to find ways of winding up dead than most people; accidents, disagreements, misadventure…" Grissom offered. "All sorts of ways that sober people would generally be able to avoid."

"That's true but, in this case, I don't think things went down that way." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Morrison pulled out a packet of Nicorette lozenges and quickly popped one in his mouth. "She was found in the pool area of an apartment complex on the other side of town, we canvassed the residents but nobody knew her and they hadn't seen her about at all either. There were no obvious signs of violence on or around the body, however, there are petechial hemorrhages visible in both eyes and faint marks around her mouth and nose that I'm willing to bet have been caused by someone applying pressure."

"So you're thinking asphyxia," Grissom commented. "That someone smothered her."

"That's what it looks like to me but, as you know, we won't be able to say for sure until after the autopsy is conducted."

"Which should be when?"

"At the moment, that's kind of hard to say." Morrison sighed. "Gainesville has two medical examiners who cover eight counties in total so, when one of them is unavailable, it doesn't take long for a backlog to start forming and, right now, our chief M.E. is out with the flu. They're working as hard as they can to catch up but, the way things look right now, it may be a couple more days before they get round to this case." He glanced sideways at Grissom, more than a little irritated by the expected delay. "I've tried cutting in line but, so far, I'm not having a lot of luck."

"It doesn't matter how fast you want to move on a case," Grissom commiserated. "Once the coroner has the body, everything goes at their speed, not yours."

"You got that right," Morrison allowed himself a small smile. "In the meantime though, there is one odd aspect of the case that I'm hoping might give us a lead so we're not at a complete standstill."

Grissom frowned. "Odd aspect?"

"Well, unexpected might be a better word," he corrected, "But until I've had a chance to check it out I'm going to keep that particular detail to myself." He turned and watched as Glen Collins finally exited the apartment and started heading their way. "Looks like he's finished so I'd better go and lock the place up." Shoving his notebook back in his jacket, he pushed himself off the front of the car. "I've just got another couple of questions and then I think we're done." He held up a finger as he remembered something. "Oh, and I'm going to need the name and number of that solicitor if you've got it on you; I'll probably want to talk to him as well."

As the detective made his way back to the building, Grissom pulled out his cellphone and began scrolling through his contact list.

"Finally giving Sara a call?" It was a variation of a question Glen had been asking him ever since they'd left the airport that morning.

"No, I think I'll wait a little longer before I do that." He looked up into his friend's tired, pale face. "You okay? You were in there a while."

"Yeah," Glen nodded. "It was a waste of time, really there's nothing in there worth keeping anyway; I've got more of her belongings stored in boxes in my basement than there are in that apartment." He brushed his hands down the front of his shirt. "I feel like I need a really long hot shower."

"Well, after we finish up with Morrison, we can go book into the hotel and get you one." Grissom checked his watch. "Then after that, we'll find the best steakhouse this town has to offer and I'll buy dinner." He held up a hand as Glen opened his mouth to protest. "You insisted on paying for both hotel rooms plus the rental that I'm driving so the least I can do is pay for a meal."

"Okay," Glen nodded his agreement, a small knowing smile appearing on his lips. "But, before we eat, you'll phone Sara."

It was a statement not a question and, knowing that he'd be hounded at every opportunity if he didn't, Grissom acquiesced with a low chuckle. "But, before we eat, I'll phone Sara."

* * *

"You got another one there, buddy?"

Standing in the shade of the patio, Sara smiled as her son filled his small plastic beach bucket from the mound of freshly-delivered soil and carried it across to the garden bed that was currently under construction. She watched, her smile widening into a grin, as he carefully upended his load, trying his hardest not to spill anything on the surrounding grass, before dropping the bucket and clapping his hands in glee, clearly proud of the part he was playing in the afternoon's work.

"That's the way." Spreading the little boy's contribution in amongst the rest of the dirt, the young laborer tasked with completing the last of the beds, chuckled as he watched the toddler's reaction. "If you're looking for a job, you just come and see me; I can use a hard-working apprentice like you anytime." He cocked his head towards the ground where Ben was standing. "Now, how about you sit down and have a couple of minutes break while I smooth all of this out and then the two of us will go over and choose the plants we want to put in here."

As Ben obediently plonked himself down, his mother's cell phone rang and, picking it up off the seat that she'd left it on, Sara glanced at the screen, her eyes narrowing slightly as she read the caller's name on the screen.

"So, finally worked up the courage to call me, did you?"

"Well, I had to after being tipped off that you were on the hunt for a hitman." She could hear the smile in his voice. "According to the text Catherine sent me, I'm, apparently, in danger of imminent assassination."

I think a hitman's a little too obvious," Sara commented dryly. "Especially since we now have a swimming pool filled with water; I was thinking more along the lines of a late-night drowning that I could pass off as a tragic accident."

"Why pay for a professional when you can do the job yourself, huh?"

"Well, you know how much I hate wasting money." Turning back towards the yard she kept her eye on Ben as he followed his new mentor across to the assortment of potted plants that were lined up along the far fence line. "And Catherine's on the hook too, you know; Jim as well for that matter, especially since it turns out he was the mastermind."

"They're guilty of nothing more than wanting to keep you safe, honey; you can't really blame them for that," Grissom reasoned. "Jim's looking out for you, pure and simple, and, while Cath's doing the same, she's also looking out for the lab; any incident involving an employee can be difficult to handle but an incident involving a pregnant employee would be a nightmare."

"And you?" she queried.

"Oh, my motives were entirely selfish," he answered honestly. "I watched you walking away from me at the airport and realized how much I had to lose if something went wrong while you were in the field. I can't protect you from everything but Catherine gave me the opportunity to protect you from that and, if I hadn't taken it and something happened…" he fell silent for a moment. "… I had to make that call, honey; I had to make sure that you and our baby were as safe as I possibly could because, if something were to happen, I'd never be able to live with myself if I hadn't."

"Nothing would have happened." Sara softened her tone, realizing just how much thoughts such as those he'd just expressed must have been playing on his mind. "I'd have made sure of that."

"Could you have guaranteed it because I couldn't; we've all seen what can happen at supposedly safe scenes but if you need a reminder of that just think back to why I asked you to come to Vegas in the first place," his voice waivered slightly as he spoke. "Just remember Holly Gribbs, Sara; I still feel guilty about what happened to her and I played absolutely no part in her being where she was when that all went down."

"You weren't her supervisor, Gil" Sara reasoned as she pulled one of the new seagrass chairs away from the patio setting and sat down. "You have no reason to feel guilty about that."

"I know but I do and, maybe that's why I know how much worse it would be to have something happen to you or our child when I had the chance to minimize the risk." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Maybe that's why I'll do whatever I have to do - make whatever decisions I have to make - to ensure that the two of you are safe."

"And I love you for it but it might have been nice if I was actually consulted about something that impacts on me, don't you think?" She shaded her eyes from the sun as she checked on Ben. "That's all I'm asking for; we're equal partners in this marriage remember and that means we make decisions together."

"I know and I'm sorry…" She had no doubt that he was sincere, she could hear that in his voice but she could also pick up a slight hardness to his tone and knew from past experience that, on this particular issue, he was prepared to dig in for all he was worth. "For the lack of consultation, I mean, but not for the decision; given the same circumstances, I'd make the exact same choice again."

Ben wandered by, both arms wrapped tightly around a pot of Morea Iris and, watching his progress, Sara decided that any further discussion on the topic would be pointless. "I'm never going to win on this one, am I?" She chuckled lightly and opted for a change of subject. "How's it going there? You sound tired."

"That's probably because I am," Grissom admitted wearily. "We really haven't stopped since we arrived this morning but I'm actually feeling pretty good; a lot better than I have lately anyway."

"That's good, maybe that means you've finally managed to shake that virus."

"That's what I'm thinking too but just to make sure I'm going to hit the sack as soon as Glen and I get back from dinner; his flight leaves an hour before mine in the morning so we have to be at the airport by 4a.m. How's my boy?

"Busy playing landscaper at the moment and loving every minute of it." Sara smiled as Ben ran by in search of another plant. "I think we have a budding gardener in our midst."

"He must be channeling his paternal grandfather," Grissom quipped. "Hey, we'll be able to save a small fortune in monthly bills if we can hand all the outside work to him instead of getting people in to do it."

"He's maybe a little young for that right now but I think it's something that we'll definitely encourage," she looked around the patio area. "Maybe we could grow some vegetables in tubs out here: tomatoes, bell peppers, that kind of thing; I bet he'd get a kick out of that."

"I'm sure he would," he quickly agreed. "Look, I'm going to have to go, Sara, Florida's three hours ahead of Vegas, remember and if Glen and I are going to make our six-thirty reservation, we'll have to start making tracks."

"Okay, well, we'll see you tomorrow morning at the airport."

"You promise it'll be you meeting me and not a hitman."

"I promise," she laughed. "I've already told Ben that we'll be going in a little early so we can watch the planes take off and land and that we'll be meeting Daddy there so I can't really disappoint him now, can I?"

"No, I don't suppose you can," Grissom remarked. "I love you, honey."

"That is something that I have never doubted," Sara told him with a soft smile as she raised her hand to wave to their son. "And, although there are times like today when I wonder why, I love you too."

* * *

"So, all's well in the Grissom household now?" Comfortably ensconced in his seat at the Firewater Grill, Glen Collins grinned across the table at his friend.

"Well, I don't think Sara wants me dead anymore," Grissom answered as he cut another slice from the thick ribeye steak he was thoroughly enjoying. "But I'm sure she'll make me pay for making that decision somewhere along the line." He smiled, still savoring the fact that he'd gotten his way. "However, as long as she and the baby are safe, I can live with that prospect." Popping the meat in his mouth, he chewed and swallowed. "So, how are the girls dealing with the news of their mother?"

"Well, to quote April, 'she didn't care about us so why should we care about her' and Macy seems to share those sentiments." Glen shrugged. "I spoke to my mom before we left the hotel and it's business as usual for them apparently; they've both been perfectly normal." He skewered the final piece of his New York strip. "That's kind of what I was expecting though, they were both so young when Melissa walked out that neither of them remembers her and she never even tried to make contact with them." He looked up. "What are you going to tell Ben about her; when he's older, I mean."

"The truth," Grissom answered easily. "Sara was adamant when we first got back together that nothing be kept from Ben about how we came to be a family and I agreed so, when we think he's old enough to understand, we'll sit him down and explain things to him." He put his cutlery down and reached for his glass of soda water. "I don't plan on sugar-coating it either, I want him to know just how much damage alcohol can do to someone and how it can control your life. I will be eternally grateful to Melissa for carrying and giving birth to Ben and also for making sure that he wound up with me but the truth is that those are the only things she did for him; she wasn't interested in him on the day that he was born and I really doubt she was interested in him on the day that she died. "

"I suppose, when you look at it, none of them have really lost anything, have they?" Glen commented. "All three of them are happy, confident and secure kids who are surrounded by people that love them: the girls have me and my folks, Ben has you and Sara and the three of them will always have each other," he chuckled, "although that'll soon be the four of them though, won't it? You two don't mind that the girls have decided Ben's baby brother or sister is theirs as well, do you? Because, if you need any proof of just how excited they are at the prospect you only have to look at how many times Sara's due date has been circled on our calendar."

"No, we're more than happy about that," Grissom assured him with a smile. "It's like you said, the _four_ of them will always have each other." Deciding he'd had enough, he pushed his plate back a little. "You did well today; I know it wasn't easy for you."

"It could have been worse; having you around to tell me beforehand what I was walking into back at the morgue made the whole thing less…" Glen shrugged. "…scary, I guess is the word." Raising his glass of Heineken to his lips, he took a sip. "You might have warned me about the smell though, that sort took me by surprise."

"The smell of the morgue?" Grissom frowned then shook his head. "I suppose I didn't think of it; they always just smell like hospitals to me."

"No, not the morgue; I mean the smell that came off Mel when they unzipped that bag that she was in." Glen shook his head, a little embarrassed that he'd even brought it up. "I don't know what I was expecting, really… liquor maybe; I mean, she hadn't been dead all that long so I knew it wouldn't be decomposition but I never would have imagined she'd smell of kerosene."

 **A/N:** Thanks, as always, goes out to SylvieT for the beta of this chapter.


	18. Chapter 18

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 18 ~**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay; all the end of financial year stuff that needs to be done tends to take a huge chunk out of my free time but this year it seemed to take it all however, it's all done and dusted now so we're good to go again. :)

* * *

Weaving his way around a slow moving cluster of his fellow passengers, Grissom exited the jet bridge into the bright lights of McCarran airport's terminal one and smiled to himself at the familiar squeal of excitement that came from somewhere off to his right. Turning, he watched as Ben pulled free of his mother's hold and, running as fast as he could manage, made a beeline from their place by the long wall of windows that looked out over the runways, past the lines of upholstered plastic seating, straight towards him.

Bending forward, he dropped his backpack at his feet and opened his arms wide just moments before the little boy launched himself into them, his own small arms wrapping tightly around his father's neck and, with one hand securely holding his son, Grissom grabbed his bag again and, standing upright, quickly moved them both out of the way of the flow of people behind.

He hugged Ben tightly to his chest, reveling in the feel of the toddler's body against his own; he'd been on edge ever since Glen's revelation the night before but this settled him instantly, the feel of his son in his arms and the sight of his grinning wife watching from the corner of the gate lounge, grounding him in a way that the aircraft he'd just disembarked from never could.

"Hey, buddy," pressing his face into the little boy's hair, Grissom breathed in his familiar smell. "Kiss?"

He smiled as Ben pulled back, puckered up and quickly obliged.

"I missed you," he hugged him close again as snapshots of his birth mother's Gainesville apartment played through his mind. "Have you been a good boy?"

Ben nodded emphatically before twisting in his hold and pointed back towards the windows. "Hairpanes!"

"I know," shifting his son's weight to his left arm, Grissom turned to look out through the glass. "I was just on one of those." He ran his free hand over his son's wavy hair. "I'm so happy to be back here with you though."

"And me, I hope."

Turning back, Grissom smiled at the sight of his approaching wife. "And you." Leaning in towards Sara, he pressed his lips to hers. "Had fun watching the hairpanes?"

"Great fun," she laughed as she teasingly poked her finger into Ben's midriff. "We particularly like watching them take off, don't we, Ben?" She sobered instantly as she took in her husband's weary-looking face. "You didn't get any sleep last night, did you?"

"Uh-uh," Grissom shook his head. "Too many things running through my head." Lowering Ben to the floor so he could still see out the window, he grabbed his hand and held on tight. "I have no idea what this is, Sara; I was obviously meant to find that woman's body the other day and Melissa's death was clearly meant as some sort of message because nothing else makes any sense but, for the life of me, I can't work out the who, what or why of it all." He shrugged helplessly. "I just don't know."

"I think you can join the club on that one." Sara's eyebrows arched in question. "What did you tell Glen?"

"Nothing, I didn't see the point," Grissom shook his head. "I'll fill him in on everything once we actually have something solid to go on but he's got enough on his plate right now, I don't see the point in adding this to it as well." He sighed wearily. "Anything new from Catherine?"

"Just a message this morning to say that she's been called to the D.A.'s office," Sara told him. "And that she'd drop by the house this evening to fill us in on what's happening in Florida; Greg flew out late last night which would have given him plenty of time to meet up with Detective Morrison before the autopsy got underway."

"Thank God for Conrad, huh?" Feeling Ben tug at his hand, Grissom let the little boy go, watching as he hurried the handful of feet to the stand right against the glass. "If it wasn't for his string pulling prowess the coroner would still have her scheduled for Sunday."

"From what I hear it took some doing; it was only when Ecklie suggested flying Doc Robbins out there to do it since they were so backlogged that they finally relented and moved her up." She checked her watch and mentally added three hours to allow for the time difference. "In fact, they're probably starting right about now."

"Good," he nodded. "Maybe that'll give us some kind of handle on whatever the hell this is." A delighted gasp came from the window beside them and, glancing across, Grissom watched as Ben bounced in excitement as a large United Airplane plane taxied its way across to the runway.

Despite the warmth of the sun streaming in through the glass, he shuddered. "If you'd seen the place she was living in, Sara; the place that he could have wound up."

"But he didn't, he's safe and happy here with us and there's no point in dwelling on what might have been." Taking her husband's hand she placed it over her abdomen. "Between Ben and this one, we'll have more than enough reality to come in our future so let's leave the past where it belongs." She smiled softly. "You know, the only thing we have left to do today is to take both our cars over to the dealership and pick up the Explorers so, how about we do that as soon as we get home and then we'll have the rest of the day to sit back, relax and enjoy some family time together."

"I'd like that," pulling in a deep refreshing breath, Grissom gently caressed the swell beneath his hand. "In fact, I think I need it."

"Pane!" Turning quickly from the window, Ben's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Daddy, lookit pane."

"But first," Grissom chuckled as he reluctantly pulled his hand away. "I have a hairpane to watch."

* * *

"And there I was thinking that kerosene smell would be unique to my crime scene." Parked in the shade of a large Southern Magnolia, Detective Morrison tore a large mouthful from the hot pastrami sandwich he'd picked up for lunch and chewed it thoughtfully before continuing. "I should have guessed that something like that was a little too out of the ordinary for Gainesville though," he swallowed and shrugged. "That's way more Vegas style, isn't it?"

"I'd like to say it isn't but, considering we've come across it at five other crime scenes so far, yeah, I guess it is." Balling up the wrapper of the smokehouse ham Panini he'd just finished, Greg reached for his coffee as he cocked his head towards the apartment complex up ahead. "So this is where she was found?"

"Yep, this is it," wiping his chin with a napkin, Morrison nodded. "I haven't given the okay for the pool area to be released yet so everything should be just as we left it." He glanced around their surroundings. "It's a nice area here; being away from the town center means there's a lot less traffic and noise than most of the places around here get."

"How many apartments?"

"Twenty-four in total, there's four three-story blocks with six apartments in each." Tossing his now-empty wrapper onto the center console, the detective reached for his door handle. "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."

Walking through the well-maintained grounds of the Stonebridge Apartments, Greg ignored much of Morrison's prattle as he looked around his surroundings with interest; set on a large corner block, a wide pathway led them towards the apartments themselves before branching off towards the fenced pool area and a residents-only parking lot off to the side. The majority of the landscaping was comprised of small to medium-sized shrubs and bushes with the occasional savannah holly offering pockets of shade from the hot Florida sun.

Stopping just before the pool gate, Greg turned to look back at the four buildings with interest.

"Are you sure no one saw anything?" Using his hand to shield his eyes from the bright glare, he scanned the surrounding area. "There's really nothing here to hide behind; this whole space is essentially open to view."

"Had this happened at almost any other apartment block in Gainesville, Facebook would have been littered with blow-by-blow photos and videos of the whole thing as it happened but most of the residents living here are professionals who are trying to get away from the college element and, since they tend to be an older and definitely wiser lot, most if not all of them were sound asleep when this thing went down." Morrison shrugged. "A security company does a drive-by a couple of times a night but they never saw anything out of the ordinary.

"Cameras?"

"One in the lobby of each building pointed at the door and another in the carpark but not in a position that helps us – your man's either scouted this area out thoroughly or got extraordinarily lucky," he shrugged as a small smile played about his lips. "Or he knew the place from past experience."

Keeping his back to the man, Greg smiled; ever since the detective had picked him up at the airport that morning, and throughout the post mortem they'd both just attended, he'd been courteous and friendly but he'd also laced their interactions with none too subtle hints as to exactly where he thought the investigation needed to go.

"We canvassed every single resident and no one saw or heard a thing," Morrison continued. "We're speculating that he probably brought her here sometime between two and three in the morning; whether she was alive or dead at the time though is another question."

"If he's following his usual pattern, she'll have been dead," pushing open the gate, Greg entered the pool area. "All of the bodies we've found have been dumped after the fact." He looked back at Morrison. "Is there any reason to think that she was alive when he brought her here?"

"No, not that I know of." Pulling the gate closed behind him, the detective skirted Greg and moved towards the far side of the concrete pool. "She was found by one of the residents when he returned from his morning run." He pointed back towards the path they'd just traversed. "He heads out that way every morning at six, runs a mile or so west of here and then swings around to come back in through the parking lot. The sun was up by the time he got back so he saw her lying on one of the sun loungers and came over to see if she was okay, took one look and then called us."

"So the only real difference between Vegas and here is that he left Melissa Collins in a place where she'd be seen." Speaking more to himself than Morrison, Greg looked first at the parking lot area and then back towards the buildings. "The question we have to answer is why."

"Attention I imagine." Morrison opined as he watched the younger man. "It looks to me to be a targeted kill and it also looks like he wanted her found." He took a breath. "Your last victim was discovered in a cove at Lake Mead, correct?"

"That's right," Greg nodded. "We found her the day before yesterday."

"We," Morrison queried, "or Gil Grissom?"

"It was Grissom," Greg clarified as he squatted down to more closely examine a dark stain on the stamped concrete pool surround. "And, to be honest, we really lucked out that he did; if he hadn't been working in that particular area, we'd probably still be looking for her now."

"And don't you find it suspicious that Mr. Grissom finds a dead woman in Vegas one day and is out here helping to identify the body of his son's mother the next?"

"You know, if it was anybody else I probably would." Deciding that what he was staring at was simply a rust mark, Greg pushed to his feet. "But, trust me, if you're trying to line Gil Grissom up for either of these murders then you're so far off base you might as well be in another ball park." Unable to hide his amusement, he grinned. "Aside from anything else, there's simply no way he flew out to Gainesville, murdered Melissa Collins and then made it back home again without someone noticing he was gone." Greg shook his head and laughed at the thought. "Seriously Detective, he's got a great wife, a great kid and another on the way, there's no way he's going to jeopardize all of that."

"He was very forthcoming about his relationship with Melissa Collins when he was talking to me," Morrison shrugged nonchalantly. "And the thing that struck me most was the fact that he really didn't seem to care that she was dead."

"Well, that doesn't surprise me," Greg countered. "After all, she did abandon Ben on the day he was born so that's bound to have colored any feelings Grissom had towards her. I imagine her ex-husband probably feels the same way; have you got him lined up as a suspect too?" Leaning casually against the pool fence, Greg offered him a conciliatory smile. "Look, of all the people I've worked with in law enforcement, actually…" he corrected himself, "you could probably change that to of all of the people that I've ever known, I think Gil Grissom would be right up on top of my list of those least likely to turn homicidal. However, if he were to go down that route, I have absolutely no doubt that there would be zero evidence left behind for us to find; in fact, I'm pretty damned sure he'd actually come up with some way to make the thing look like a perfectly natural event so murder would be the last thing anybody even considered."

"So what?" Morrison asked, his exasperation growing by the second. "He's beyond reproach?

"No, not at all," Greg shook his head. "But to me it looks more like someone's trying to put him somewhere that he doesn't belong." He shrugged. "Although I do think both the circumstances and timing are suspicious, I don't for a moment believe Gil Grissom had anything to do with Melissa's death. However, I'm sure that, as part of the normal investigation into this crime as well as the others, he'll be questioned about any involvement he may or may not have just like any other possible suspect."

"Well, I should hope so," Morrison answered, his annoyance only slightly appeased. "And while you're asking him about that you might also want to see if he has any idea why the body of his son's birth mother was dumped in the grounds of the same apartment complex that he used to call home."

* * *

"Apartment Nine." With one eye on the mug full of hot coffee in his hand and the other on the obstacle course of discarded toys that currently littered both the kitchen and surrounding areas, Grissom made it to the dining table without any serious mishaps. "Second building, second floor."

Placing the mug down in front of Catherine, he pulled out a chair and took a seat before continuing.

"I lived there for a little over fourteen months; the funding was pulled from the project I'd been working on and my lease had reverted to a month-to-month after the first year so I paid the landlord a month's rent in lieu of notice and left for Arizona as soon as everything was packed up." He shook his head. "I don't think Melissa knew that I lived there although, working in administration, I don't suppose it would have been too hard for her to find out."

"We have no way of knowing if she was the one that told him where you'd lived or he found that out himself but, at least, we do know it's definitely our guy that killed her." Raising the mug, Catherine took a cautious sip. "According to Greg it has all of the hallmarks so, what we need to work out now is exactly why it is he's trying to draw you into the investigation."

"By making me a suspect?" Grissom smiled at the thought. "You know, I think it's the first time I've ever been one of those."

"Well, Greg went in to bat for you so I don't think you're still number one on Detective Morrison's hit list but given who the victim was _and_ where she was found, it was a fair assumption for him to have made."

"It was," Grissom agreed with a nod. "Greg's flying back tonight?"

"Yeah," she checked her watch. "He's booked on the 7:30 flight out of Gainesville so I guess that means he's already on his way. I wanted him to stay over and catch a flight in the morning but he insisted on leaving tonight, he said he never has any trouble sleeping on planes and he knows we're kind of shorthanded at the moment so -"

"I can come in tonight if you need me, Catherine." Carrying a freshly-bathed Ben, Sara entered through the kitchen. "I might be confined to the lab but I can, at least, take some of the load off you guys."

"There's no need, really," with a smile of thanks, Catherine shook her head. "I've already arranged backup from Swing should we need it so, provided it's a relatively normal night I think we'll be fine." She held out both hands to Ben. "Come here, Tiger; I haven't had my hug yet."

"He's tired and a little grumpy," Sara warned as she swung the little boy off her hip and, placing him down, watched as he ran around the table to Catherine. "It's been a long day."

"Tell me about it!" Catherine rolled her eyes as she picked Ben up and quickly enveloped him with both arms. "I had to spend half of it at the D.A.'s office."

"That would have been fun." Grissom commented sarcastically.

"Oh it was." Nuzzling the side of her captive's neck, Catherine grinned as the toddler broke into a fit of the giggles. "Especially since it was Maddie Klein that summoned me." She looked across at Grissom. "Did you know she's going to take a run at the top job?"

"No but it doesn't surprise me," Grissom shrugged. "She's been a deputy D.A. for years now and with McEwan finally retiring, it makes sense that she'd want to throw her hat into the ring."

"I wouldn't mind so much if she wasn't so damned abrasive." Placing an affectionate kiss on the top of Ben's head, she let him slip down off her lap and watched as he scooted his way across to a nearby toy car. "She told me she wants to make sure she's up to speed on as many open cases as she can then, when I've finished filling her in, she all but demands that we work harder so she has more opportunities to look good." She shook her head in amazement. "How the hell you stayed friends with her all those years, I'll never know."

"She's not so bad once you get to know her."

"Well give me some tips here," Catherine prompted. "Because, God knows, if she gets the job I'm going to need them."

"I think the most important thing is to never show fear because that is something that Maddie feeds on." He shrugged. "And that is, undoubtedly, the attribute that's going to make her a damned good district attorney."

"You think she'll get the job?" Sara asked.

"I wouldn't doubt it for a minute," he winced and, raising his hand, rubbed it almost absently against his sternum. "What Maddie wants Maddie gets… one way or another."

"What's with the chest?" Catherine nodded towards his hand. "Are you having chest pains?"

"No," Grissom quickly shook his head. "Just heartburn, that's all; it came on kind of suddenly."

"Are you sure?" Sara frowned.

"Positive," He quickly assured her. "I know heartburn when I feel it, honey."

"Well, it's not like you've really eaten much," Sara was clearly not convinced. "A cheese and tomato sandwich for lunch and that's about it."

"Tomatoes can do it," Catherine commented. "And some cheeses too I believe; I think it's to do with the lactose." She smiled. "Heartburn's a funny thing, I remember Eddie used to eat chili that could strip paint without a problem but give him a piece of buttered toast and he was in agony all day." She turned to Grissom. "You got some antacid?"

"Yeah," pushing his chair back, he got to his feet." There should be some in the bathroom; I'll be back in a minute."

"I come!" Toys instantly forgotten, Ben scrambled up off the floor and ran after his father.

"He's been his father's shadow ever since we got home; I think he wants to make sure Gil doesn't disappear on him again." A dull thump sounded from further back in the house and Sara shrugged. "Not surprising I suppose; a day and a half is a long time to a two year old."

"Gil looks kind of pale."

"He didn't sleep last night so that makes two in a row, I'll make sure he goes to bed early tonight." She nodded towards Catherine's mug. "You want a top up?

"No thanks, I should be making tracks soon; I want to get to the office early and make sure everything's set for the night." She looked up as Ben wandered back into the room. "Hey big guy, that was quick."

Sara turned in her seat just in time to lift her son up onto her lap. "What's the matter, baby; did Daddy send you back?"

"No," Ben shook his head. "Daddy sleep."

Giving him a quick squeeze, Sara chuckled. "I know Daddy needs to _sleep_ but I don't think he's quite so rude as to do it when we've got a guest." She brushed his hair back off his forehead. "I know, how about we go see what he's doing together?" Easing him off her knee, she looked across at Catherine with a knowing grin. "It's one of their games; Gil pretends to be sound asleep until Ben wakes him up." She took her son's hand. "But I guess someone wasn't in the mood to play; we won't be long."

She led him through the kitchen, along the hallway and then let him pull free to run ahead of her towards the open door a half dozen steps away. Entering moments later, the smile of amusement slipped instantly from Sara's face at the sight of her husband – unconscious and bleeding profusely – face down on their bedroom floor.

 **A/N2:** Thanks as always goes to SylvieT for the beta of this chapter.


	19. Chapter 19

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 19 ~**

"Okay, that should hold it." Rummaging through the contents of the large first aid kit she carried in with her, Helen pulled out a sealed non-stick pad along with a roll of Micropore tape. "I'll just put a dressing over the top for now and then I think we're almost done."

"Are you sure he doesn't need stitches?" Seated on the far side of the bed, Sara had been intently following the older woman's every move. "I mean, if you think he needs to be seen at the E.R. then I can-"

"I'm not going anywhere, Sara; I've already told you that." Biting back a frustrated sigh, Grissom rolled his eyes as he stared at the ceiling above. "I bent over to pick up a toy and stood up again too quickly that's all; it's really no big deal."

"No big deal?" Sara huffed out an almost contemptuous laugh. "I wish I'd known that when I walked into this room and found you passed out on the floor or when Catherine helped me roll you over because we couldn't get a response out of you or maybe even when your son was screaming in terror because he was clearly picking up on the fact that his mother thought you were dying." She shook her head in attempt to shake off the mixture of fear and dread that her discovery had caused. "Because I did, Gil; I honestly thought we were losing you."

"But you weren't." Realizing just how close she was to having two patients to care for, Helen shot her a quick reassuring smile. "And, as soon as I get this finished he'll be almost as good as new." Placing the dressing gently over the gash that now decorated the right side of Grissom's forehead, she taped it down ignoring the sharply indrawn breath the action elicited. "He can just count himself lucky that he didn't hit those drawers full on; a broken nose would not have looked good in my wedding photos."

"Will it be healed by then?" Sara queried with a concerned frown.

"For the most part." Collecting up the assorted debris around her, Helen nodded. "It's a little on the deep side as evidenced by the size of the bloodstain on your carpet but, to answer your earlier question, it doesn't really need to be stitched; as long as it's kept clean and dry and little fingers are kept well away from it, the steristrips should hold it together just fine." Taking a step back from the bed, she shifted her attention back to Grissom. "Okay, you can sit up now, Gil, but do it slowly, the last thing any of us needs right now is to have to pick you up off the floor again."

Easing himself up carefully until he could rest his back against the headboard, Grissom took a deep breath in and then exhaled slowly as he took in his wife's worried face. "I'm fine, honey, honestly; it's something that could have happened to anyone."

"True, but, in general, people don't just pass out without a reason." Perching herself on the edge of the mattress, Helen fixed him with her best no-nonsense stare. "Catherine mentioned that you'd complained of heartburn right before it happened, what else was going on?"

"Nothing, not really." Grissom shrugged dismissively. "I'm probably a little more tired than usual but considering I've spent most of the past two days travelling to Florida and back that's not surprising."

"He's neglecting to tell you that he barely slept during those two days," Sara added. "And that he's been unwell for the past week or so: nausea, headache, stomach pain," she looked across at Helen. "Pretty much all of the same stuff I called you about last week, remember?"

"That's still going on?" Helen frowned as she studied his pale face. "You really should have had that seen to by now, Gil." She turned back to Sara. "How's Ben been?"

"Oh, he's fine," Sara nodded. "He was back to normal the next day."

"So, a twenty-four hour bug for the two year old and a week-long one for his father?" Helen shook her head, "I don't think so. What do you remember about before you passed out, Gil; was it just the heartburn?"

"Yeah," Grissom started to nod only to stop with a gasp as the movement sent waves of pain through his head and neck.

"That's going to hurt for a while," Helen winced in sympathy before glancing across at Sara. "You might want to follow the usual concussion protocols tonight; checks every three or four hours, if he starts vomiting or you have any trouble waking him, call 911."

"I'll do that," beginning to relax a little, Sara smiled. "He hated being woken last time we went through this but we can call it his punishment for scaring the hell out of me."

"Don't you like how she makes it sound like I did it on purpose?" Grissom quipped, his skin steadily losing the grey pallor it had taken on and returning to its usual healthy tan. "I'm sorry for dragging you in on this, Helen; if I'd known Catherine was calling you-"

"No one dragged me any place I didn't want to be," she smiled, pleased that he was obviously feeling better. "So, let's see if we can work out what this is all about." She held the back of her hand to his forehead. "No more vomiting?"

"No, I'll admit to nausea and stomach ache but they seem to come and go."

"You're not running a fever." She pulled back her hand. "Any lower G.I. problems? Diarrhea, constipation, bloating, anything along those lines?"

Grissom shrugged. "No, nothing at all."

"Well, at least, you lucked out on that score." Reaching for his wrist, Helen's practiced fingers automatically found the pulse point and she fell silent as she concentrated on the beats.

"Any ideas?" Sara asked hopefully.

Holding up a restraining finger, Helen looked at Grissom with a frown. "Have you felt dizzy at all before today?

"Not really; a little when I first got sick, I guess, but considering how much I was throwing up then, that's probably not surprising." He frowned back. "Why?"

"I'm not sure; it's probably nothing." She shifted her focus to his neck and placed her fingers over his carotid artery for a full minute before finally addressing Sara. "You wouldn't happen to have one of those home blood pressure monitors around here, would you?"

"We do actually." Sara nodded. "My doctor wants me to keep an eye on my BP, especially now that we're heading into the third trimester, so I bought one a couple of weeks ago." She pointed towards the door. "I think it's in the kitchen; you want me to get it for you?"

"Yes, please," pulling her fingers away, Helen sat back with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "If we're going to check your husband out we might as well do it properly." She waited until Sara had closed the door behind herself before turning back to Grissom. "How do you feel now that you're sitting up?"

"Fine," Grissom replied honestly. "I still have the heartburn but, apart from that…" he gingerly touched his forehead, "… and this, of course, I feel pretty normal." He cocked his head. "How about you tell me why you took my pulse twice?"

"Your heart rate is a little lower than I was expecting it to be," she told him. "The average resting heart rate is anywhere between sixty and one hundred beats per minute; both readings I took from you came in at fifty-eight."

"Well, it's bound to be down a little, isn't it?" He asked. "I assume the reason I passed out was because both my heart rate and blood pressure tanked."

"That's my assumption too but it should have bounced back by now," Helen checked her watch. "It's been over half an hour since you fainted."

"Bradycardia?" Grissom frowned then shook his head. "My normal pulse rate tends to be in the mid-eighties."

"And that's the kind of number I was expecting." Helen shrugged. "It's probably being caused by whatever it is that's been making you unwell but then again it might not; have you had any chest pain that you couldn't attribute to heartburn lately; pressure, tightness, anything like that?"

"No, just the heartburn." His eyes met hers and he tried to inject a little levity in the situation. "I'm not about to prove Sara right and drop dead, am I?"

"I doubt it," Helen patted his hand as she chuckled. "Your heartbeat might be a tad slow at the moment but it's strong and steady so I wouldn't worry too much right now; it'll be interesting to see what your blood pressure is though."

"Interesting how?" Stepping back into the bedroom, the still-boxed blood pressure monitor in her hand, Sara looked from Helen to Grissom and then back again. "What did I miss?"

"Is Ben okay?" Grissom butted in, worry for his son and the trauma he'd unwittingly caused the little boy foremost in his mind.

"He's sound asleep on Catherine's lap at the moment," Sara smiled. "She said it took a while to calm him down and get him settled but once she had he was out like a light. I told her to take him through and put him in bed but she doesn't want to risk disturbing him yet." She held the monitor out towards Helen before settling herself, once again, on the bed. "So, what is it about Gil's blood pressure that's going to be interesting?"

"His pulse is a little on the slow side so I want to see if his BP is following suit." Catching sight of the look of fear on Sara's face, Helen hurried to reassure her as she slipped the inflatable cuff around her patient's arm. "It's what I'd consider borderline low, Sara but that's not necessarily dangerous so let's not panic just yet, okay." Satisfied that all was well, she pressed the machine's start button. "You take anything for high blood pressure, Gil?"

"How many men my age do you know that don't?" Grissom quipped as the cuff began to inflate. "My doctor prescribed Caduet."

"Amlodipine and Atorvastatin," Helen commented as she kept an eye on the monitor's LED display. "Did you take any today?"

"One right after lunch," he told her as the machine audibly beeped in time with his heartbeat. "I forgot to pack them when I left for Gainesville so that was the first one in two days."

"And how did you feel when you were out there?"

"Fine," he told her as he kept his eyes locked on the small LED display beside him. "More than fine, actually; I felt much better yesterday than I have all week." The cuff around his arm deflated and a drawn out beep signaled the end of his reading. "One hundred and nine over sixty-three," he looked up. "That's low too."

"It's actually within the range for normal but it's not really the kind of reading I'd expect from someone who's being treated for hypertension." Helen thought for a moment. "I wonder if the Caduet is actually lowering your blood pressure a little too much." She stared long and hard at Grissom. "You don't happen to remember what it was the last time your doctor checked it, do you?"

"One twenty-six over eighty-eight," Sara told her. "That was about a month ago."

"So, we've gone from high-normal to low-normal in the space of four weeks." Tapping her fingernail against her teeth, Helen frowned. "And we've got a lowered heart rate too." Pulling a notebook from her first aid kit, she wrote the figures down. "Okay Gil, here's what we're going to do: over the weekend, Sara is going to take your blood pressure three times a day," she looked across at Sara, "morning, noon and night without fail."

"Got it," Sara nodded as Helen turned back to Grissom.

"She's going to text each reading to me and she's also going to keep note of them herself for when you see your doctor." Seeing Grissom about to speak, she silenced him with a glare. "Which is going to happen as soon as possible," she looked at Sara. "Call first thing Monday morning, tell them what's happened and make sure they know he needs to be seen."

Grissom rolled his eyes at the prospect. "That sounds like fun."

"I'm sure it will be," Helen quipped with a smile as she returned the monitor to its box. "If your pulse and blood pressure don't start to behave themselves, I can almost guarantee that your doctor will order an ECG, a stress test, an ultrasound, most probably a CT scan and more blood tests than you ever knew existed."

"Like I said," Grissom grimaced at the prospect. "Sounds like fun."

"And in the meantime?" Sara asked.

"If there's any problems or you're worried about anything, give me a call and I'll be over in a flash, okay." Closing up her first aid kit, Helen offered her a reassuring smile. "Not that you'll need to though because everything's going to be fine especially since your husband is now under orders to spend the whole weekend right where he is, relaxing in bed and catching up on all of that sleep that he's missed." Turning, she grinned at the almost petulant look on Grissom's face. "If nothing else, that'll keep him out of trouble."

* * *

Staring out across the almost-black expanse of the Red River, Zephyr smiled at the array of bright neon lights on the opposite shore; it reminded him of Las Vegas, a considerably pared down version admittedly, but similar nonetheless. The crowds milling about the place were smaller too but the atmosphere was still the same - the electric buzz of excitement, hope and greed that drew people, again and again, to places like Vegas, Atlantic City and even here, to Shreveport, Louisiana.

Pushing the final piece of bacon cheddar burger into his mouth, he wiped his fingers clean before slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out his most recently acquired set of car keys. He'd lifted them on a whim from the pocket of a drunken college kid in a darkened bar in Ruston at lunchtime and been somewhat surprised to find himself the driver of a one-year-old Ford Fusion that he hoped, with a judicious change of license plates as he moved from one state to another, would look both smart enough and generic enough to almost guarantee he'd have an easy, hassle-free journey from Louisiana all the way back to Nevada.

A sudden wind blew up and Zephyr stopped where he was, pulling the front of his black Nautica jacket closed and zipping it up. It was as he was about to take a step that the flyer on the ground caught his eye or, more to the point, the name emblazoned across the flyer did – Toby Arcane.

He smiled coldly at the words and remembered just how much he'd enjoyed reading all about his fellow illusionist's fall from grace. He'd reveled in the scandal that had followed the younger man's descent into drugs and alcohol and celebrated with a twelve-pack of Noche Buena beer when he'd read reports that there wasn't a single casino in the entire state of Nevada that would offer him a contract to perform.

But, apparently, Shreveport's Regal Star casino wasn't quite as discerning.

Zephyr glanced at his watch and weighed up his options: he could make his way back to the Ford and leave Shreveport – and its drug-addled magician – behind or he could hang around for a while longer, see if he could catch the show and maybe pay his old friend Toby a visit; after all, the two of them had a lot of catching up to do.

 **A/N:** Thanks, SylvieT :)


	20. Chapter 20

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 20 ~**

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay, the whole thing just got away from me again but I will rein it in, I promise!

* * *

"It's going to be okay, Sara." Reaching across, Grissom placed his hand firmly over hers, putting an end to the incessant finger drumming she'd started almost as soon as they'd sat down. "You heard what the guy doing the scan said; according to him everything looks good."

"He's a tech not a doctor." Glancing up at the clock on the wall, Sara sighed impatiently. "I think I'll wait until we hear it from someone with a medical degree before I start to celebrate."

"That tech probably does a dozen or more of those things every day, I'd like to bet that he can read them better than any M.D. in Vegas."

"Maybe," she conceded with a curt nod, "but I'd still like to hear it from Dr. Daniels." She drew in a sharp breath. "Why did they tell us to come in here when he clearly isn't ready to see us?"

Pulling his hand back, Grissom lightly scratched the area above his right eye; the annoying itch he was experiencing was a promising sign that the gash was beginning to heal but the bruised area surrounding it was still tender and he winced as his fingertips caught a particularly sensitive spot.

"I'm sure he won't be much longer," he commented as he, too, looked at the clock. "He's probably been running late all day thanks to seeing me first thing this morning." Grissom chuckled. "It's his receptionist that I feel sorry for; I bet the last thing she thought she'd have to deal with today was a pissed off Sara Sidle."

"Well, maybe that'll teach her to listen when I tell her that I _need_ an appointment for my husband." She chuckled lightly. "I was a little rough on her, wasn't I?"

"Maybe a little, yeah, but it did get results. One thing you've got to remember though is that we're here about my stress levels, not yours."

With an exasperated sigh, Sara rolled her eyes at the comment. "How can you be so calm?"

"It's pretty easy actually," Grissom told her honestly. "The nausea's gone and so has the headache. I haven't felt dizzy or faint since I passed out on Friday and, thanks to your monitoring, we know that both my heart rate and blood pressure are back to relatively normal levels and staying that way." He offered her a reassuring smile. "Plus I spent the entire weekend either sleeping or watching television in bed so how could I not be calm? Whatever it was has gone, Sara; I really do feel good."

"You said almost exactly the same thing when you were in Florida," she pointed out as she moved her hand lightly across the mound of her stomach. "And the next day I found you unconscious on the floor."

Knowing that nothing he said would convince her, Grissom nodded towards her belly. "Kicking?"

"Yeah, has been all morning." Sara focused her fingers on one particular spot. "The little devil's starting to get some real force behind it now too, there's some definite jabs going on today."

"Probably unsettled because you're uptight and he knows it." He shrugged. "Or she, of course." Reaching across, he placed his hand protectively over the swell of her abdomen. "There's also the fact that you've barely eaten anything today which, I imagine, doesn't impress him or her either."

"I know," she nodded her agreement. "But, to be honest, I couldn't have faced food this morning; let's just get this appointment over and done with and then I'll think about feeding both of us."

"I'm sure he won't be much longer." Grissom checked the clock again. "Hey, we have to start thinking of names."

"I know we do but are you really sure this is the time and place to have this conversation?"

"Well, it's either that or we play I Spy," he joked, pleased to see her beginning to relax a little. "So, do you have any particular favorites?"

"Well, boy or girl, the middle name's a given so that's half the job done but when it comes to first names…" Sara shrugged self-consciously, "I've actually been kind of afraid to think that far ahead; everything's gone so smoothly so far, I don't want to tempt fate."

"You do know that, as scientists, we probably shouldn't be letting an abstract concept, such as fate, rule our lives, right?" Grissom chuckled at the disdainful glare she shot him." You're not tempting _anything_ by choosing names, Sara; we're prepared in almost every other way for this kid's arrival, I think it'd be smart to come up with at least a couple of different options to name it before the birth."

"Perhaps." Still a little wary of the role providence may or may not decide to play, Sara shrugged. "How did you decide on what to name Ben?"

"Oh, he was easy." Grissom idly rubbed his chin as he thought back to his first few days of fatherhood. "Everything was so hectic and complicated that first week of his life; between Melissa taking off, him being in the NICU, Jim, Catherine and my mom all turning up," he shrugged, "I just wanted something simple and uncomplicated for him. I've always liked the name and it seemed to suit him so that was that."

"So we're after simple and uncomplicated for this one?" she asked.

"Not necessarily." Grissom shrugged. "For all I know you've always had a secret desire to call your daughter…" he thought for a moment, "I don't know, Persephone for example and, if that's what you really want to go for, then I'm all for it." He nodded slowly as he gave it a little more thought. "Actually Persephone Grissom might work, you know." His lips quirked up into a teasing grin. "It'll take a little bit of getting used to but, I think, eventually-"

"Eventually?" Sara almost spat the word out. "If you think, for a single moment that I'd even consid-"

"Sorry for the delay, folks." Pushing the door closed behind him, Dr. Daniels entered with an apologetic smile. "I wanted to go over every inch of the results before I spoke with you."

Quickly switching her attention from her husband to the doctor, Sara sat up straight in her seat. "You've got them back already?"

"Everything except the blood tests." Slipping into his leather office chair, he stared almost solemnly across at the couple seated on the opposite side of the large timber desk before fixing his attention on Grissom. "So, Gil…," he took a deep breath, "how long have we known each other now?"

"I…" Faltering slightly at the unexpected question, Grissom glanced first at Sara and then back at his doctor before offering the man a clueless shrug. "I'm not sure; fifteen years, twenty maybe."

"Twenty sounds about right." Tapping a couple of keys on his desktop computer, Daniels quickly pulled up Grissom's medical file. "So, I guess that means we've known each other long enough to cut to the chase when it comes to a diagnosis; no sugar coating, no beating about the bush, no bullshit, right?"

Glancing up, he watched as Sara reached across the short gap that separated her chair from her husband's and slipped her hand over his, her fingers tightening until the knuckles turned white in, what the doctor guessed, was a fairly even mixture of both comfort and fear.

"I mean, having dealt with each other for so long, it's probably best that I just come straight out and say it, correct?"

"I would prefer it that way." Grissom inhaled and slowly let it out as he turned his head to look at his wife. "I think we both would."

"Okay then." Staring at his screen again, Daniels nodded. "I don't know how you're going to take this, Gil but, according to your test results, you're absolutely fine."

"Excuse me?" Eyes widening in surprise, Sara sat forward in her chair. "How can he be fine after everything that's been happening?"

"Beats me but he is," Daniels grinned happily. "Of course, we won't get your blood work back for another day or two so I, perhaps, should have put a caveat on that but, going by the physical exam I gave you this morning along with your x-ray, ultrasound and EKG results, you have an absolutely normal heart that is working exactly as it should be."

"Really?" Despite his earlier assurances to Sara, Grissom was somewhat surprised by the findings.

"Really," Daniels confirmed as he read the screen in front of him. "I have to admit, when you told me what had been going on, I was expecting the worst which is why I started pulling strings to get those scans done today but the only thing I'm even mildly concerned about health-wise is that your blood pressure is still a little higher than I'd like it to be." He glanced across at Grissom. "You haven't taken any Caduet at all since early Friday afternoon, correct?"

"That's right," Grissom nodded. "To be honest, I was afraid to; I really didn't want to hit the floor again."

"Can't blame you for that." Scrolling through the file, the doctor double-checked his current prescriptions. "Both your blood pressure and cholesterol levels reacted so well to it that I think we'll just drop you down to a lower dose and see how that goes; if we can get that BP down just a touch more and keep it there I think we'll both be happy."

"So it was the medication that caused the problem?" Sara frowned, her hand still wrapped tightly around Grissom's. "One of the things that Helen suggested was that his blood pressure was being pushed too low."

"It's a possibility and, if that's the case, dropping the dose will definitely help but from what you told me this morning and the results I'm seeing this afternoon, I think it's probably been a combination of things." Turning from the computer, he smiled from one to the other. "From what you said, you were dealing with some stressful things last week and you topped it all off with a long-distance flight to Florida and back plus, throughout it all, you were battling, what sounds to me, like some sort of virus." He shrugged. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say that what happened to you last Friday was simply a case of an over-stressed system that decided to get your attention by shutting down for a while."

"So, the whole thing was a one-off?"

"I suspect it was," Daniels nodded. "Catching up on your rest over the weekend has allowed your body to both reset and recharge so, provided you don't have another week like the last one, I'd be very surprised if something like that was to happen again." He glanced back at the screen. "How's the heartburn been since Friday?"

"Not as bad but it still plays up now and then," Grissom shrugged. "Burn is definitely the right word for it; there are times when it feels like I've swallowed fire."

"Well, they don't call it acid reflux for nothing." Daniel's quipped. "Since it seems to have been a fairly major contributor to the way you've been feeling, I'm going to try you on Prilosec to see about getting it under control." Turning back to his keyboard, he spoke as he typed. "I'd also suggest that you pay attention to what you're eating to see if you can identify any foods or drinks that may be setting it off: things like chocolate, nuts, coffee, tea, cola drinks and alcohol are fairly common triggers for heartburn."

"So that's it then?" Sara asked hopefully. "No more tests or scans? No cardiologist?"

"I'm really not seeing the need for one." Daniels glanced across at her with a reassuring smile. "I can refer him if it'll put your mind at ease, Sara but, honestly, I think we'd just be wasting everybody's time."

"There's no need, Doc; I feel fine and, according to all the tests, I _am_ fine so I'm more than happy to leave it at that." Squeezing the hand he still held, Grissom locked eyes with his wife as his lips curled up into a confident grin. "So no more worrying about me, okay? From here on out, everything's back to normal, honey; no more illness, no more passing out, just plain old boring normal."

Ten minutes later, Grissom slipped his new prescriptions into his shirt pocket and reached into the center console for his sunglasses as he made himself comfortable in the new Explorer's driver's seat.

"You sure you're all right to drive?" Settled in the passenger seat, Sara's eyebrows rose in question as she watched him adjust the rearview mirror.

"You were listening when he gave me a clean bill of health, right?" Satisfied that all was to his liking, he grinned. "I'm fine, remember."

"I know, I know." Relaxing against the seatback, Sara checked her watch. "Um, I told Lily that it would probably be late afternoon before we picked Ben up so do you think we could stop somewhere for food?"

"Hungry?"

"Kind of, yeah." She admitted almost sheepishly. "There's a deli not too far from here that does great sweet potato fries; I would absolutely kill for some of those right now."

"Then that's what you'll have," Grissom promised as he started the engine.

"And a large serving of black cherry ice cream too.

"Fries dipped in ice cream again, huh?" Grissom narrowed his eyes. "I thought we'd got past that particular craving."

"We had," Sara shrugged, "but, apparently, it's back."

Grissom curled his upper lip in disgust. "Well, if anything was going to trigger my heartburn I think it would probably be that."

"They do serve other things, you know; I'm sure we'll find you something safe to eat."

Sara popped on her own sunglasses.

"Oh, but before I forget," she waited until he looked back, "let's not play the 'Ben has to wake Daddy up' game for a while, okay; your stress levels might be good but if I walk into a room and find you laid out on the floor again, mine are probably going to go through the roof."

Cocking her head, she smiled sweetly at him.

"And, if you even suggest naming our baby Persephone again or anything else like it for that matter, I'm going to find those divorce papers we signed and I'm going to file them with the court… you got that?"

Grissom chuckled. "Yes, dear."

"Good, now let's get out of here; I'm absolutely starving!"

* * *

 **A/N2:** Thanks as always goes to SylvieT for the beta.


	21. Chapter 21

**SLOW BURN**

 **~ Chapter 21 ~**

 **A/N:** Aaaand, we're back! Sorry for the length on this one, it ran a little longer than I was expecting.

* * *

Pressing the last strip of bright blue tape tightly up against the window molding, Grissom took a couple of steps backwards into the middle of the room and surveyed his afternoon's work. It had taken over an hour of continual bending, stretching and, at times, crawling, but the nursery was now almost fully prepped to paint, the only thing left to do was to mask around the door frame and he'd be ready to go.

He flexed his left leg in an effort to ease the bone-deep ache his exertions had caused, wincing as the joint popped loudly in protest and then spun quickly as he sensed a presence behind him.

"You really should have woken me up, you know, I could have helped you out."

"I figured you needed the rest." Smiling into the still-sleepy face of his wife, Grissom shrugged. "As evidenced by the fact that you wandered off to take Ben's things to his room and, five minutes later, I found you curled up and dead to the world on his bed."

"I was feeling a little tired, I guess I didn't realize just how much though; I took one look at the pillow and that was that." Sara chuckled as she glanced over her shoulder towards the far end of the house. "Where is he?"

"Asleep in our room, he didn't last much longer than you did." Bending, he picked a few errant pieces of masking tape off the carpet. "I don't know what they did at daycare this morning but, apparently, it was exhausting."

"Hey, it's hard work playing in that sandbox." Sara glanced around the empty room. "So, we're ready to paint?"

"Almost," he nodded. "I spoke to Lily a little while ago and she's more than happy to have Ben spend the day with her tomorrow so I thought I'd get the first coat done after I drop him off and then the second one just before I leave to pick him up; that way I don't have to worry about little fingers trying to help out."

"Well, between the two of us-"

"Uh-uh," Grissom shook his head. "You're spending tomorrow on the sofa; after running from one end of this house to the other for me all weekend, you're going to put your feet up in front of the television and relax while I take care of you. Oh, and Catherine said to tell you that you're not allowed anywhere near the lab until tomorrow night."

"But I'm supposed to be working tonight."

"And now you're not," he told her. "According to Cath, a night of solid sleep instead of lying awake waiting for your husband's heart to stop is way more important that sitting at a desk doing case reviews and I tend to agree with her; I don't think you've had any proper rest since last Thursday and that's not good for you or the baby."

"No, I guess it isn't," Sara conceded. She'd tossed and turned each night since his collapse, afraid to nod off herself convinced that, if she did, she'd awaken to find him cold and still beside her. Looking back now, it was a foolish notion but one she hadn't been able to shake off and, despite her protest, she was actually more than happy with the prospect of a full night's sleep.

Moving the stepladder he'd been using closer to the doorway, Grissom surveyed the otherwise room. "So, we've just got a rug for the floor and the rocking chair to get now, right?"

"Yeah," Sara nodded. "I did consider moving Ben's chair in here but he still loves using it for bedtime stories so we're on the hunt for another one." She thought for a moment. "We got his from that furniture clearance place near my old apartment; they usually have at least a couple of different style rocking chairs to choose from."

"But that's also directly opposite the shopping mall where you were left, remember?"

"Vividly, but I can't blame the area for that now, can I?" Sara chuckled. "Not that I've always felt that way; Morgan and I were called to process a scene out that way a few weeks after it happened and the closer and closer we got, the more nauseous I became until, finally, I had to pull over and have her do the driving." She shrugged lightly. "I managed to convince her that it was pregnancy related but it wasn't; it was simply the first time I'd been in the vicinity since the day that happened."

"Are you sure you'd be alright now?" Grissom frowned. "I mean, there's bound to be dozens of other places in Vegas we can find a rocking chair."

"I'm sure," Sara smiled widely to alleviate his concern. "I used to love wandering around that place anyway, that's where I got most of the furniture for my apartment."

"Well, if I get all the painting done tomorrow as planned, we can spend Wednesday putting that decal of yours up and moving the crib and other stuff in from the garage then drop by the store on Thursday morning after your scan. I think there's a rug place around there too, isn't there?"

"A couple of blocks away, yeah," Sara nodded. "It'd be nice if we could get it all set up and ready to go," she smiled as she traced gentle circles across the mound of her belly. "It's going to make the whole thing seem so much more real when we have a completed nursery."

"So that bump you're caressing isn't real enough for you?"

"Oh no, that's definitely real but… I don't know," she shrugged, "I think seeing the room ready and waiting will underline the fact that we're only twelve weeks or so away from meeting our baby." She smiled self-consciously. "Considering the whole thing is something that I never thought I'd experience, I think it's probably normal that some aspects of it still seem a little unreal now and then."

"It probably is," Grissom conceded with a grin, "but I'd like to bet everything will feel all too real when you go into labor." He held up a finger. "Which reminds me, I was thinking maybe we could get away for a couple of days before the baby comes so-"

"Please tell me that the word 'babymoon' is not about to come out of your mouth." Leaning against the door jamb, Sara's mouth quirked up in a bemused grin.

"Do I look the type?" With a glare of mock disdain, he shook his head. "No, I was thinking more along the lines of the three of us driving over to Flagstaff-"

"Flagstaff?" Sara frowned. "Why?

"Well, we have to go to the courthouse in person to pick up Ben's new birth certificate so I thought it would be a good opportunity to do that and then play tourist for a day or so – it is his birthplace after all."

"The birth certificate with my name on it?" she nodded happily. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"I thought you might." Retrieving the painter's tape from the window sill, he smiled. "And sorting that out will give you something to do tomorrow while I'm busy in here; you can check out the hotels online and also pick out a couple of places that you'd like to see; this time of year there'll be snow around too so that should be more than enough to keep Ben amused."

"Okay," Quickly warming to the idea of a day on the couch, Sara's brows rose in question. "When?"

"Well, Jim's wedding is the week after next so pretty much any time after that, I guess," he shrugged. "You're on three day weekends until your leave starts and my work is flexible so any time should be good; we can leave here on the Friday morning, get the courthouse out of the way in the afternoon and then have the whole weekend to ourselves before driving back on the Monday; how does that sound?"

"It sounds good to me." Reaching across, she quickly pressed her lips to her husband's before she caught hold of his hand and held it to her belly. "And, apparently, I'm not the only one that thinks so."

Grissom chuckled as a decidedly sharp rap landed squarely in the middle of his palm. "That feels like an elbow."

"Either that or a knee." Sara smiled as he lovingly caressed the spot with his fingertips. "Now, I'd better go and wake his or her brother up otherwise it's going to be a nightmare trying to get him into bed tonight; you'll be, what?" She nodded towards the ladder. "Another ten minutes or so?"

"About that, I just have around this door to do then a final tidy up and I can close it all up for the night."

"Well, I'll keep Ben occupied while you do that, the last thing you need is him barging in here and undoing all your work." Sara turned towards the door only to turn back again. "Oh, since you bought up the subject of Jim's wedding, what are you doing for his bachelor party? That is the best man's responsibility, isn't it?"

"It is," Grissom nodded, "but, according to Jim, he doesn't want one. Helen's grandkids will be here by then and he's suggested taking them and Ben out for the afternoon instead." He shrugged. "He hasn't decided where yet but apparently burgers and soda will be on the menu for everyone."

"Grandpa Jim strikes again, huh? He does love that role." Sara smiled. "You can't leave it at that though; you've got to do something 'grownup' with him."

"I know and it's already organized; I thought we could drop the kids off after we're done and then I'll kidnap Jim for the night, I got a text message on the weekend that everything is good to go."

"And 'everything' is?' Sara's eyebrows rose in question.

"I can't tell you," he shrugged. "Sorry, honey, but-"

"You don't trust me," she finished for him.

"That's not true and you know it; I trust you with my life and, more importantly, I trust you with my children's lives, however, when it comes to my plans for Jim's night out…" leaning in, he quickly pressed his lips to hers before stepping back with an almost smug grin. "… I don't trust anyone."

* * *

"Hey, Catherine." Standing in the open doorway, Greg smiled warmly as his supervisor looked up from the report she was working on. "I thought I'd be the first one in tonight but I guess you beat me to it."

"By a couple of hours," Catherine glanced at her watch and then nodded towards the pile of staff evaluation beside her. "Now I know exactly why Grissom used to avoid these things like the plague; it doesn't seem so bad when you first start out but, there's really only so many times you can write 'always follows correct procedures for evidence collection and preservation' before you want to start pulling your hair out." Heaving a weary sigh, she flicked the current file closed and loosely clasped her hands on top of it. "So, what are you doing here so early?"

"I got a call from Detective Morrison in Gainesville a couple of hours ago and thought I'd come in and check something out before shift." He gestured back over his shoulder. "If you feel like a break, I've got a pot of the good stuff and a box of donuts waiting in the break room; I'm more than happy to share."

"You're on." The desk phone rang and she rolled her eyes as she reached towards it. "Just give me a moment to get this and I'll be right with you."

Five minutes later, Greg slid the box of assorted donuts into the middle of the large break room table before placing a steaming mug in front of Catherine.

"Good news about Grissom, huh?"

"Excellent news," she concurred as she picked up her coffee. "I don't mind admitting that I was expecting the worst."

'So was Sara." Greg made himself comfortable on the seat opposite. "She sounded so relieved on the phone I can only imagine what's been going on in her head over the weekend; the prospect of a toddler, a newborn and no Grissom," he shrugged, "she must have been terrified."

"She certainly sounded it when she called out to me after finding him on the floor." Catherine was racked by an involuntary shiver at the memory. "I hope I never hear my name being called with that particular tone again; that is one afternoon I am _never_ going to forget."

"Is she working tonight?"

"Nope." She shook her head before taking a sip of the piping-hot brew. "She won't be in until tomorrow; I think having her fully rested is way more important than brushing the dust off some old casefiles just now." Placing her cup down on the table, she reached for a maple glazed donut. "So what did Morrison want?"

"Apparently, the medical examiner's office is still working through their backlog so, with no other real leads to follow, he decided to check through the traffic camera footage from I-75 both before and after Melissa's estimated time of death.

"And I assume he found something."

"Yeah, he did." Studying the open box before him, Greg opted for a Boston Kreme. "A light colored Volvo sedan with two front seat passengers, one male and one female, that took the turnoff you'd use to get to the apartment complex Melissa was found at and showed up again, heading north forty minutes later, minus the woman.

Reaching for a napkin, Catherine wiped frosting from her fingers before commenting. "I hate to point it out to you Greg but it might have been nothing more than some random guy dropping his date home after a night out."

"True," he conceded. "But when Morrison ran the tags from that car they came back to a Toyota Camry with a registered owner in Pensacola and it wasn't until the detective called the guy that he discovered he'd been driving around with someone else's plates on his car. When Morrison ran those plates through the system, it turned out they belonged to a silver Volvo S60 that was reported stolen last Wednesday from a mall parking lot on the other side of town. "

"So, he's stealing cars from one location and then swapping out the plates with some he's stolen from another vehicle?" Catherine shrugged. "I guess, when you think about it, no one really pays much attention to the tags on their car; you'd notice straight away if they were missing but as long as there's a physical plate where it should be, you'd just assume that it was yours."

"That's what Morrison thinks that he's doing and, with that knowledge, he managed to trace that car from Florida to Louisiana where it was found dumped out the back of a strip mall in a town called Ruston." Greg took a sip from his coffee cup. "He made a call to the local police department and asked about any vehicles that may have gone missing around the same time and discovered that a Ford Fusion was stolen from the parking lot of a bar later on that night; the owner was drunk at the time and had only a vague recollection of bumping into someone when he headed outside for a cigarette some time during the evening but couldn't get any more precise than that, and the bar has no exterior security cameras so there was literally nothing to go on."

"No missing number plates?"

"None were reported." He shrugged. "And there were no sightings of that car either; Morrison tried his best to track it but had zero luck and he was about to give up on it altogether when he stumbled across a report of an unusual incident involving a Ford Fusion on I-40 just outside of Santa Rosa, New Mexico."

Pulling a small notepad from his pocket, Greg flipped it open to the hastily scribbled notes he'd taken during his phone conversation with the detective.

"Apparently, one of the Highway Patrol officers out there radioed in the tags from a blue Ford he was following that was going a little faster than he was comfortable with and asked for dispatch to run a check on for him since they were out of state plates; that check came back showing they'd been stolen from a vehicle in Texas the day before so he told the dispatcher he was about to pull the car over and asked her to standby while he made the stop. When they didn't hear back from him, they sent a second officer out there who found the locked patrol car exactly where it should have been but no sign of either the Ford and the officer was missing as well. They did, however, find his crushed bodycam on the driver's seat."

"When they finally broke into the patrol car, the dashcam footage clearly showed the deputy approach the Ford and then reel back slightly as though something was thrown," leaning forward slightly, Greg emphasized the next two words, " _or sprayed_ towards his face. He spends the next minute or so trying to wipe whatever it was off and then suddenly gives up and stands beside the car as though he's listening to the driver talk before he returns to the patrol car and moments later the dashcam is turned off."

Sitting back again, he swigged for his mug as he watched Catherine digest everything he'd just said. "A helicopter located him, two hours later, sitting on a rock about three miles into the desert; the man had no idea how he got there and absolutely no recall of either the Ford or its driver."

"Well…" placing what was left of her donut down on the table, Catherine breathed in deeply. "That certainly sounds familiar."

"It does, doesn't it?" Snapping his notebook closed, Greg slipped it back into his pocket. "The Fusion was found burnt out in the desert just outside of Albuquerque and, as far as Morrison can tell, there have been no stolen car reports that fit our suspect's M.O. since." Greg shrugged. "That's why I came in early; I want to see if I have any more luck from this end."

"So," Catherine frowned. "He's on his way back."

"Uh-uh. Greg shook his head. "That incident in New Mexico happened yesterday morning, Catherine; he's not on his way back, he's already here."

 **A/N2:** Thanks, as always, to SylvieT for her beta of this chapter.


End file.
